Muted
by QuasiOuster
Summary: AU sequel to Quiet. Daryl and Michonne formed a special bond while within the safety of their prison haven. But can they continue to hold on to each other when their community falls apart around them? Or will the chaos and tragedies force them to revert back to their former solitude? Set in season 4.
1. Chapter 1

_**Author's Note: I do not profit from or own any part of The Walking Dead franchise.**_

_**This is a sequel to Quiet that I wasn't at all planning. In fact, I had only meant to add a few new scenes to it but the tone of this continuation is so different that I thought it best to branch off. It's not completely necessary to read Quiet first but I highly recommend it because the interactions amongst the characters will make a lot more sense if you do. **_

_**We're in AU territory where Daryl and Michonne are in an established relationship. It will roughly follow the events of season 4, reinterpreting some scenes while adding new ones.**_

_**Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoy.**_

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**Chapter 1: Home**

Michonne pushed Flame a little harder once the terrain began to look more familiar.

She passed the turnoff for her group's emergency "backdoor" path for the prison and noted how much better concealed it was with the overgrowth that had sprouted up in the last few weeks. If she were foolish enough to take her horse off road into the wooded expanse ahead, she'd run into Rick's strategically placed animal traps. In a bind, it was better to veer off to her left and take her chances in the uneven stretch of farmland that led in the direction of where Woodbury used to stand.

No need for a backup plan today though. She saw no problems on the horizon. Her heart rate quickened as she made the final turn towards the prison entrance.

Her standard whistle alerted a couple of roaming figures in the distance, actual living persons for a change. Rick and Hershel. Carl was already halfway to the fence, ready to slide it open once his dad tackled the heavier barrier. It was almost as if they were anticipating her arrival and waiting to welcome her.

A smile crossed her face as she rushed into the prison, the slamming of the doors crashing behind her. It felt good to be back.

Hopping off her horse, she surveyed her surroundings. A crew was picking off a pack of walkers at the fence line and the number of people working at it gave her pause. She'd have to ask about that first thing. There was also a new section of crops planted and the pigs were happily running wild in the small pen. It had been awful keeping track of those little escape artists back when they first got them. The vehicles weren't in their regular spot so either Daryl and Sasha were off on their run or they'd parked them around the side to load or unload.

Carl ran up to take the reins from her, probably so he could wrestle Flame away. The horse's care was shared between her and the Grimes boys so Michonne was sure he was itching to spend some quality time with their pet now that she was back.

"Glad to see you," Rick called out after sliding closed the inner fence.

Michonne grinned as he made his way to her side. "Glad to see you too." Turning to Carl, she opened her saddlebag and pulled out a stack of comics. "Somebody hit the jackpot?" His reaction was worth the trouble she'd gone through to grab the stash.

"And I found this," she said, pulling out an electric razor she'd stumbled upon in her travels. Rick grabbed it from her and frowned. "Your face is losing the war, Grimes." Her smile was met with an embarrassed acceptance. No one was enjoying his descent into a full mountain man look.

Pocketing the shaver, he gazed off into the distance for a beat. "I hope you're staying for a little while 'cause things have been pretty exciting around here lately. Got some crops about ready and Daryl brought in a deer the other day so the eatin's been good."

"This early?" she asked, always impressed by Daryl Dixon's skills. Whether because of walker activity or the weather, the winter months hadn't been a great time for finding much fresh meat. There was some speculation that the spring would bring more prospects but Michonne had chalked it up to wishful thinking until she actually saw some results. There'd been a spike in what Rick caught in his traps a while back but that had slowed down too.

"I'll have to see if there are any leftovers. I'm sure everyone appreciated his catch."

Rick chuckled. "Like you wouldn't believe. They act like they've never had meat before."

Their shared amusement was interrupted by the sound of engines revving and a trail of vehicles coming over the rise, led by the man in question.

She could see his smile forming as he slowed to greet them. Turning off his motorcycle, he eyed her up and down, his lips transitioning into a leer. "Well, look who's back?"

"Look who's leaving?" she responded, drinking him in as well. He was a satisfying picture at that, all disheveled and decked out in leather. He seemed completely in his element on his brother's huge motorcycle, crossbow at hand and leading his small group out into the wild. After being alone on the road for over a week, she was eager to get her hands on him.

Now wasn't the time or the place for a reunion but there was no harm in either telegraphing their interest.

She hated to put a damper on things but there was no sense in holding out about the main reason she'd been gone. "No sign of him, by the way." Daryl's amusement faded as he acknowledged her news. "It might be worth looking over by Macon," she added. The suggestion went over about as well as she expected, starting with Daryl's immediate shake of the head.

"I don't think so, babe. Seventy miles of walkers? And you might run into a few un-neighborly types? Aint worth a damn thing if ya get yourself killed." His stare was hard and unyielding, as was hers.

Rick and Carl stood by as awkward as ever when it came to getting in between the two of them. Michonne and Daryl had repaired the damage to their relationship since their big fight and subsequent fallout. It was a series of long, difficult conversations that led to the occasional solo trip like the one from which she'd just returned. Things weren't necessarily fragile when it came to the issue of the Governor but it was unrealistic to think they wouldn't still clash from time to time. They just tried to be less dramatic about it; they found out the hard way that it didn't work for them at all.

Rick cleared his throat. "Y'all checkin' out the Big Spot you were telling me about?" A change in subject was probably for the best since the festive vibe of her return was completely shot at this point.

Reluctant to back off his confrontation with Michonne, Daryl slowly turned to Rick and nodded. "Yeah, you in?"

"Naw, I'm 'a go out and check the snares. I don't wanna lose what we got to the walkers."

"I'll go," Michonne chimed in, taking a few steps towards the caravan of vehicles.

Carl huffed from where he stood a few feet away. "You just got here." It wasn't quite a whine but it came off as a clear plea for her to reconsider. They hadn't spent much time together at all in the last month and Michonne could tell that, like Daryl, Carl wasn't thrilled with any of her proposals since riding through the gate.

Flashing him a smile that promised restitution, Michonne adjusted her katana and took a few more steps away. "And I'll be back."

"Hey!" Daryl called out. "Don't remember sendin' you an invite." His teasing grin challenged her to protest. Michonne calmed upon realizing that, for now, his affection would override his frustration with her.

She put a hand on her hip and shrugged. "I'll go ask Sasha then," her parting gesture an amused cock of the head.

"Michonne," he said, signaling to her again. She strolled over, compliant but not too obedient. "You best get your ass on this bike 'fore I leave you here." He restarted the motorcycle while he waited on her.

He didn't have to wait long. Without hesitation, she swung a leg over the rumbling beast to settle behind him, arms squeezing him around the hips and her chin at his shoulder. When he turned to check on her, she kissed him, a brief but succulent meeting of lips.

"Saw that little present for Rick," he murmured so that only she could hear him. "You better have somethin' good for me too or I'm 'a be pissed." The growl to his lowered voice was like sandpaper against mahogany, rough and taming. It gave her chills.

She smiled at him, one that promised interesting things to come. "You'll just have to wait and see." A few fingers slipped inside the layers at his waist had him letting out a cooling breath. Stilling her hands and flashing a scowl that warned her to behave, he gave a friendly pat to Rick and rolled down the path towards the gate.

Rick shook his head at them as he went to man the exit.

TBC ...


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2: Run**

The long trek to the Big Spot was a pleasant one for Michonne. Just a short time ago, she was roaming the area, only herself and Flame for miles around. The freedom of it was intoxicating. However, it didn't compare to a purposeful ride through the back roads on a powerful motorcycle with a man like Daryl in her arms. That they were riding to secure supplies to keep their growing community afloat was a secondary thought.

She decided to keep her hands to herself since she didn't want to distract Daryl from what she knew he'd been planning with Sasha for a while. The last time they'd been on his motorcycle together, it'd been just the two of them and she'd teased him all the entire time. It wasn't as satisfying as their animated, post-scavenge sex in a hatchback. But the occasional touch or kiss went a long way to reminding him of what else he could have between his legs if he played his cards right.

That's when he'd threatened to ban her from his bike. But he had practically carried her back to his cell and devoured her afterwards. It was a fair enough tradeoff.

When they arrived at the big box store, Michonne hopped off the motorcycle and immediately greeted Sasha and the others before getting filled in on the plan. They were happy enough getting the extra set of hands, especially when those hands were hers. She didn't need a lot of explanation or direction; she only needed to be told once what to do and she was on it.

After getting a layout description from Glenn, an unfamiliar figure rounded the car and approached her. Obviously, he was known to the group, only Michonne had never seen him before. He seemed skittish, nervous maybe, understandably so if this was one of his first runs. Whatever his deal, she wasn't particularly interested in a meet and greet, although it was not shaping up to be a choice.

The man smiled at her a little too brightly. "The name's Bob." He held out a hand for her to shake and Michonne stared at it, cautiously assessing the stranger.

"Daryl found him on his own last week and brought him back," Sasha explained, nudging her in the shoulder from behind. Michonne took the offered hand and briefly shook it with a firm grip. Sasha grabbed her gear and headed to the trunk area, taking the new guy's attention with her. "If you think I'm a tough sell, you might not want to rub elbows too hard with this one." Michonne glared at her but Sasha only laughed.

Bob on the other hand looked rather intrigued if his scrutiny of her was any indication. His smile widened, again sizing her up in a way that suggested he appreciated what he saw. She was an intimidating presence for sure but she'd learned over the years that some men were into that.

Michonne narrowed her eyes at him, not impressed by this newcomer at all, scrawny and presumptuous as he seemed to her.

Daryl chose that moment to approach the two of them with one of the newbies, Zach, trailing him with a shotgun. Passing Bob, he clapped him on the shoulder.

"Don't mind my girl, Michonne, over here. You gon' want her with ya if shit goes down; woman's got instincts for miles. People, walkers—she'll take out anybody faster 'an you can blink. And she's a real pussycat once ya get to know her," he drawled.

Michonne smirked in his direction, arms crossed. He chuckled at her annoyance, knowing full well she'd make him pay for that later—and enjoy it too.

"You don't say?" Bob was certainly looking more interested now, a saucy grin directed towards her.

But Daryl wasn't done with him yet. Before leaving Bob's side, he leaned over to give him one last piece of advice. "One more thing. I catch you tryin'a rub anything her way, hard or otherwise, and we 'gon have a problem. Comprende, brother?" Slapping his shoulder again, this time a little harder than necessary, he met up with Sasha at the trunk and pulled out some additional gear.

Bob's smile fell and his eyes widened. Panicked, he turned to the man who'd taken him in. "It's cool." He held his hands up defensively and retreated a few steps back as if to prove his point.

"Good," Daryl said, flashing Michonne a predatory glance.

Neither she nor Daryl were much for public displays, yet Michonne had to admit that his possessiveness was rather sexy. Not since those long ago rumors about her and Rick had she seen that side to him. Usually it was she playing the territorial card with how much certain women at the prison liked to eye him up, as if she wouldn't notice. It was rather amusing to see the shoe on the other foot.

Michonne smirked at Daryl and followed the rest of the group across the parking lot.

It was eerie to see this abandonment of this last line of defense against the undead. All these resources and it hadn't done a bit of good for the unlucky few that got left behind. And the more details she heard the more Michonne admired Sasha and Daryl's plan. They'd prepared well and hopefully they'd be able to stock the prison for months with the haul they were planning.

Finally reaching the entrance, Daryl banged on the front window, waiting for the stray walkers inside to congregate and cluster for easier dispatch. He perched himself on the windowsill, the young man Zach right on his tail. Michonne had noticed the kid keeping close to Daryl but she wasn't sure the significance of it. All she knew of him was that he and Beth were hooking up, or so Maggie had implied. Like many of the newcomers to the prison, she didn't know him well, although he seemed nice enough.

"Okay, I think I got it."

"Got what?" she asked, curious about the smirk that was growing on the young man's face. This ought to be entertaining.

"Oh, I've been trying to guess what Daryl did before The Turn."

Daryl shook his head. "Been tryin'a guess for like six weeks."

Now that he mentioned it, Michonne remembered hearing a similar conversation between them a few weeks ago. Now she was really interested to learn what the kid was up to.

Zach chuckled, confident. "I'm pacing myself, one shot a day."

"Alright, shoot." Daryl offered.

Zach then turned to her. "Wait, you must know the answer to this then. You got any hints for me?"

Daryl shot her a warning look to which she rolled her eyes. "I think I'll leave this to the two of you. Daryl doesn't tell me everything you know." Zach didn't look convinced.

"Alright then, if that's how you're gonna play it. You're next though." Returning his attention to Daryl, he scrutinized him for a moment more. "Well, the way you are at the prison? Yeah, your being on the council; you're able to track. You're helping people. But you're still being kinda … surly."

Michonne couldn't hide her amusement at Zach's description. She knew a whole other side to Daryl. It was funny to hear this other, more common and gallant impression of him.

"Big swing here," Zach said, excitement and anticipation pouring from him. "Homicide cop."

Unable to hold it in, Michonne burst into laughter. She wasn't privy to every detail of Daryl's life before. However, she was pretty sure of the things he _wasn't_ up to and law enforcement was at the top of that list.

"What's so funny?" he asked, his coy smile not giving anything away to Zach.

Her chuckles died down and she leaned against the wall of the building to steady herself. "Nothin'. It makes perfect sense." The intensity of her mirth sparkled in her eyes and Daryl's grin reflected his notice and enjoyment of it.

Turning from the both of them, Daryl sobered himself. "Actually, the man's right. Undercover."

"Come on? Really?" Zach's face was lit to the hilt.

"Yep," Daryl confirmed. "I mean, I don't like to talk about it 'cause there's a lot of heavy shit, you know." He glanced over to Michonne, imploring her to play along.

The skepticism started to creep in for Zach, although the hope on his face made the situation that much funnier. "Dude, come on, really?" Looking over to Michonne for confirmation, she just smiled and deflected back to Daryl who simply stared at him intensely.

After a few moments of that, Zach's smile disappeared, resigned to his failed attempt. "Okay, I'll just keep guessing, I guess."

"Yeah, you keep doing that," Daryl suggested. Any further conversation was thwarted by the insistent banging of a walker at the window by Daryl's head.

Michonne propped herself up and grabbed for her katana. "We gon' do this, Detective," she said as he approached her.

Slapping her on the ass, he turned to Sasha and Tyreese and grabbed the last of his gear. "Let's do it." This wasn't their usual day at the prison. Things were raucous and lively, the opposite of where'd she'd come from this morning. But it was exciting too.

Michonne grinned and followed him to the entrance to wait for the signal from Sasha. She could get used to this kind of rush.

Together they all stormed the building.

TBC...


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3: Comforts**

Daryl climbed the stairs to his cell with a heavy step and a weary spirit. Telling Beth about Zach and what happened on the run was upsetting enough, but her reaction to it? It made him again curse what this world was doing to people.

It was hard to wrap his brain around the cold practicality he'd seen from her. She and Zach hadn't been seeing each other for too long but they'd been as sappy as any set of young lovers. He'd teased them about it not a few hours before. Receiving fatal news about someone close to him would mess him up for sure. It had already. Yet Beth had brushed Zach's death off like a statistic, like Daryl was simply reading her the headlines from the problems of some far off place and not from right in her own home.

One thing was for sure: after today, there was no fucking way he was letting Michonne ride off to Macon for any reason, no matter what her excuse. If she wanted a fight over it, that's what she was gonna get.

Stepping into his dark cell, he shuffled over to the bunk and flopped down, cradling his head in his hands. A sharp movement had him hopping to his feet once more.

"What the hell!" The light flicked on and Daryl relaxed at the image of Michonne lying across the bed. Her expression softened in apology. She surely hadn't meant to further fray his already shredded nerves.

After returning from the run, she'd left him to his business without a word, taking a few extra moments to kiss him and embrace him tightly. Then he'd wandered off with Sasha to fill everyone in on what went down. He assumed she'd gone to unpack and clean herself up. It shouldn't be such a surprise to see her waiting for him but his mind had been elsewhere.

She reached her hand out to him. He took it and once again collapsed onto the bed, mindful of where she lay this time. Refusing to release her hold, she sat up and rubbed his back as he hung his head in exhaustion.

"You told her?" Daryl nodded. "She took it well?"

Daryl let out a harsh breath. "Took it like a fuckin' pro. No tears or nothin'. She wadn't even angry 'bout it. Just 'thanks for stoppin' by and have a nice night.' Hell, she was comfortin' me at the end of it." Michonne rested her chin on his shoulder at hearing that.

Zach was a good guy, stepped up when anyone asked him and a lot of times when they didn't. There was a lot of himself he saw in the kid, rebellious but eager to please in a way; useful and dependable. He'd been a reflection of who Daryl could have been if his family hadn't been so goddamn dysfunctional.

The kid had looked up to him and Daryl had let him down. Not intentionally or recklessly, no, but it that didn't matter since he died on Daryl's watch all the same.

Michonne squeezed his hand, drawing his attention to her face, so full of empathy and affection. Her features were especially beautiful to him in the shaded light. He wondered if she found Beth's behavior as strange and sad as he did. It was rare for Michonne to react emotionally to the terrible things that happened around her so maybe she understood it better then he did. Even at her coldest, though, there was still a sense that Michonne recognized the tragedy of these hardships. Only she buried it deep enough so it wouldn't hurt her.

But with Beth, it was like everything she felt for Zach died with him and there was nothing left to do but move on.

Michonne sighed, her breath a pleasant warmth at his neck. "Well, that's how Beth handles things. And I knew she wouldn't blame you. That's you feeling bad but it's no one's fault, Daryl. To think otherwise is bullshit. It's just what always happens now, sooner or later, no matter how much you plan for it not to."

Daryl nodded. She was right and deep down he knew it was a waste of energy to tie himself into knots about how fucked up the trip turned out. That was easier said than done.

The day had been a rollercoaster of emotions—anticipation at finally executing the run he and Sasha had been planning for the last three weeks; mounting dread at the walkers Carol had pointed out, bunching up and giving the fence crew all kinds of problems. Then the entire plan going all to hell in a few seconds flat. One freak incident was all it took.

Not twenty minutes before the shit hit the fan, he'd still been excited about Michonne's return, reveling in the comfort of her arms around him once again and the confidence of her partnership at his back. They'd joked around with Zach and Daryl had been secretly glad to see her so receptive to someone other than her inner circle of friends. He'd gotten to stake his claim to her in front of Bob and not have it result in an ass-kicking from her—or from him. She'd even been cordial which wasn't her thing with new people.

It almost made him forget the foolishness of her idea to go all over creation looking for the Governor.

Kicking off his boots, Daryl slid onto the bed beside Michonne, letting her settle back on top of him as he pulled her familiar body close. Extinguishing the light, he felt better for plunging them into the darkness. He ignored the doubts in his head that called his need for this quiet time with her a weakness. It was easy to imagine Merle's voice making fun of him for it. He was beyond caring about any of that. The way Michonne encouraged his arm to envelop her and tangled her legs into his reinforced exactly what helped him get through the dark times. They didn't talk at all, just held each other and savored it.

They lay there for a while, Daryl stroking her hair with restless fingers and Michonne caressing his other hand positioned at her waist. They usually weren't much for cuddling, although they did burrow together in their sleep—when they actually shared a bed. It was about as common for them to bunk together as it was to sleep alone, both enjoying their space even as they enjoyed the other's company. And this didn't feel too invasive. They were simply lying side by side, only the edges overlapping between them.

Finally, Daryl sighed and turned to face her. She adjusted to his movement in time to watch him lean down and kiss her. He let go of her hand and caressed her face in gentle strokes, closing his eyes to block out everything but the feel of her. In the darkness of the confined space, he felt Michonne align her body with his; she held him with steady arms as he deepened his taste of her. There weren't words to express how her presence, her acceptance of him, was such a salve to his soul right now.

Their lips and tongues mingled explosively until he pulled back to rest his head against hers. "I told Beth I'm tired 'a losin' people. So damn tired of it."

"I know, Daryl. We all do our best." Her husky voice matched his own weathered tones. Her words from a moment ago ran through his mind again. No matter how much you plan, the worst always seems to happen anyway.

"We set up that shit tight as can be. Sasha and I scoped it out, went through every last detail. And we still had our people in trouble and walkers fallin' from the damn sky."

Michonne continued to slide her hands along his back which Daryl had to admit felt really nice. Soothing. Tilting her head, she kissed him again, a brief sample of her but a satisfying one.

She reached up and smoothed his hair with the same calming strokes. "Technically, they fell from the roof, dear." His eyes met hers, an intensity to his gaze. "Just sayin'," she added, a smirk pulling at her lips.

The jest cracked the cloudiness of his mood and he returned a small smile. "Smartass." Calloused, dark fingers glided across his cheek and down his neck before resting on his chest. He relaxed onto his side and the silence stretched again, the two simply listening to the sounds around them of the prison quieting down for the night.

"Hey," Daryl whispered in her ear after a while. "I aint tryin' to start nothin' but I don't want you ridin' out to Macon lookin' for that asshole."

"I'm not going anywhere." Michonne rubbed her thumb against the exposed swath of skin at his neck. "We shouldn't talk about that right now though." It wasn't exactly what Daryl wanted to hear because that meant she had more to say on the matter but didn't want to get into with him under the circumstances. Her assurances that she'd stick around for a while were good enough.

Creeping his hand across her waist, he found his own patch of exposed skin and worked his fingers underneath her shirt. "You stayin' tonight?"

Michonne nuzzled farther into his neck and peppered the sensitive area with soft kisses. "I was waitin' on you, remember?"

He smiled down at her and pulled her to him until she was lying comfortably on top. Staring up into her dark eyes, shimmering in the fading light from the hallway, he memorized her features for the hundredth time; let his eyes trace the signs of life and warmth in her expression as she assessed him as well. Her hands went back to trailing across his face. It had been over a week since they'd been together like this and, along with the tragedies of the day, their need for connection was a throbbing ache.

Their kisses started slow but turned heated quickly as their hands went from exploring to disrobing. After getting a satisfactory feel of her, Daryl reached up and released the sheet he kept tethered to the top bunk, ready to be released when he wanted a little privacy or seclusion from the rest of the cell block. There were only a few occupied cells on his level so there weren't a ton of people strolling by. But when he and Michonne were enjoying some quality time together or he was trying to get some sleep after a night watch, the makeshift barrier came in handy.

He proceeded to make love to her. Slowly. Gently. Not at all like their usual intensity and completely unexpected for the time they'd spent apart missing each other. His need to know her, to taste her, it was overwhelming as he stroked and kissed his way across her body. The tang of her skin washed away the traces of bitterness left behind from all the death and disaster of the failed supply run. Michonne let him take his time and let him take control knowing that he needed some part of his day to flourish through his efforts.

They made it last, Daryl taking her to the brink of sensation before pulling back and starting over again. When she gasped her fulfillment beneath him, his release found him clinging to her, the slickness of their damp skin aiding his resonating undulations. There was no doubt or blame or regret, only satisfaction and their unshakable affection for and reliance on each other.

Soon after, they quietly dressed, neither comfortable being unable to jump out of bed and into action quickly. Michonne resumed stroking his hair as she spooned behind him in the dark. The community around them was mostly settled with an occasional echo of movement or drift of loud conversation making its way through the room. He'd lifted the sheet that had shrouded them in their own private sanctuary, letting the reality of their situation wash back over them.

The sound of Michonne's soft voice focused his thoughts again. "Brought you something from the road. A special occasion gift, one of them at least. You'll have to wait until tomorrow for the other."

He watched as she lifted her head to kiss his shoulder while stretching her body over his. "I was just playin' before. You know, 'bout you bringin' Rick somethin' and not me. You came back in one piece and that's good enough." She paused long enough to peck him on the cheek for his kindness. "'Sides, you scored me some Skittles last trip so I figure I aint got another treat comin' for a while. Least not that kind 'a treat," he added, squeezing her backside as she leaned over the bunk.

"Well, I was looking for some M&M's and found this instead." She reached underneath the bed to where her boots sat and pulled back holding a small box. "I'm not condoning this but we all have our vices and I figured you could use something comforting after today."

"Got all the comfortin' I need," he said and kissed the back of her neck before she passed over him again. There wasn't anything she could hand over that was better than her lying beside him right now.

She settled behind him once more, holding out her gift: a pack of his favorite cigarettes. Daryl stared at the box like it was a glass of water after a long hike in the desert. No, it wasn't better than having her but it was damn good.

Resigned to his impulse, she dropped the box in his hand. "Go ahead. It was a shit day and we just had some great sex so you deserve it."

He tore open the pack and had one lit and in his mouth before she could even react properly. Keeping his back to her, he blew the offending smoke out towards the center of the room. He'd have to go brush his teeth after he finished if he wanted any chance of kissing Michonne again tonight. She hated that he smoked even though he didn't do it often or around her usually.

As the cool evening came to a close, they tried not to dwell on how broken the world was now, the chaos receding as they grounded themselves in their prison refuge.

Daryl held onto Michonne's hand as he faced away from her savoring the delicious nicotine rush of the cigarette between his fingers. It seemed wrong to feel this satisfied. But despite the disasters of the day, he still had a good woman at his side and a simple pleasure burning at his fingertips.

And they'd both survived another day.

TBC ...


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4: Redux**

Michonne woke to Daryl's warm body at her side. Her hand rested on his chest, solid and affirming underneath the blanket. The steady rise and fall of his breaths were a pleasing introduction to the day.

Her instincts kicked in as she fully assessed her surroundings. A dull illumination was beginning to flood the high windows of the complex. It was a little before dawn; no one stirred outside although that would probably change soon. Daryl had the blankets draped up to his neck, still chilled by the colder spring nights. It had been a restless night for him yet he'd slept soundly for the last few hours.

As nice as it felt being back to bundling up with Daryl, she wasn't one for sleeping in. She was used to getting up before the sunrise whether out in the world or behind the prison fences. Another cursory listen didn't reveal much activity in the cell block below although she'd be surprised if Rick wasn't already awake and attending to his young daughter.

Things had been awful for Daryl the previous day, dealing with the failed run he'd been planning for weeks and the loss of a group member with whom he was friendly. He was taking it hard and no amount of comfort or reassurance was going to wipe away the guilt he was feeling. Knowing Daryl as she did, she wasn't worried about his grief festering—he'd move on because he had to. But he'd always carry the tragedy with him and fight against believing that it happened due to a failing on his part. Daryl was so strong and resilient yet in certain ways he was incredibly fragile. It's one of the traits that connected them.

Stretching a bit under the covers, she tried to keep her movements discrete so as not to disturb her sleeping partner. She had an idea of how she wanted to start the day, for Daryl's sake, and it would mean keeping him in bed a little longer. After uncovering herself, she reformed the blanket around Daryl and gingerly crawled over him. With one leg on the ground, she saw his eyes flutter and open, no doubt keen to her absence and retreat. She didn't mind at all getting caught but she would have to get him to stay put.

Instead of swinging her other leg off the bed, she kneeled on top of him and pressed her lips against his. His response was somewhat groggy but it was immediate and enthusiastic despite having been fast asleep five seconds before.

"Might wanna work on your getaway." With his eyes still closed, he grinned and pressed her down against his body. "Aint a thing wrong with your diversion though. That part's right as rain." Michonne loved the feel of his strong arms securing her against the powerful leanness of him; hearing his drowsy drawl was giving her ideas. He'd left his shirt unbuttoned the night before so the sparse softness of his body hair tickled anywhere her exposed skin found purchase.

A wicked smile greeted his words. "If I wanted to distract you, I'd do a little bit better than that." Since she was technically straddling him, she held fast to the bunk so she could grind into him where their bodies met. He groaned, the sound transforming into a muffled hum when he leaned up to nuzzle into her neck. Matching her movements, his aroused gnawing and sucking at her were doing a good job of derailing her early head start.

Somehow, she found herself lying back on his bunk. Daryl's insistent grip was fondling one of her breasts underneath her shirt, replacing his hand with his mouth once he'd gotten the reaction he'd wanted from her. It was a resigned response to meeting her pleasant fate. Her hands had already started unbuttoning his pants and she reversed their positions so she could once more entice him while on top.

Although she was the one in control now, again, Daryl had surprised her by how quickly he could turn the tables.

This time, their sex was more aligned to their usual habits. They had perfected the tacit ferocity of pleasuring each other while keeping a sense of discretion in close quarters. It was a release of hormones repressed by their time apart, an expression of their strong attraction to each other. With every thrust and breathless gasp, they shared an aching passion almost desperate in their need to get each other off. And afterwards, there was no cuddling or sexy banter. Once they'd gotten this morning tryst under their belts, Michonne crawled from where she was perched on top of Daryl to readjust her clothes. Sitting at the bed's edge she put on her shoes as if completing her everyday routine.

She paused to sweep the hair from his eyes and stood up with her katana in hand. "You feeling okay?" He still seemed tired but didn't appear to carry that same haunted look from the night before.

"Feel fuckin' amazin' right now. Might need me another cigarette after that." She tried to glower at him but the sincerity of his satisfaction was too irresistible. What she did do was tilt her head to the side, a silent urging for him to address the question she was really asking. The sex was meant to be a comfort not a distraction and she didn't want him hiding from difficult emotions as a way of getting by.

Daryl didn't respond again right away, probably trying to figure out how to answer her. Rather, he had pulled the covers back up, almost as if to protect himself. Then again, maybe she had it right initially and he was just tired. Although he was no stranger to waking up early, Michonne wouldn't exactly call Daryl a morning person.

"I'm okay, I guess," he muttered, biting into his bottom lip. He always did that when he was uncomfortable. She didn't push him. There had been enough of that from the previous evening.

Instead, she bent down to kiss him once more before she rose. "No need to get up. I'll be back with some breakfast in bed for you."

The suggestion prompted a strange look from Daryl. "What you done with Michonne? Gotten used to my roll in the hay 'fore you run off but it aint like you to be all domesticated and romantic and shit." As she made for the doorway, he adjusted his pillow that had gotten dislodged with all their activity. He folded his arms behind his head and grinned at her when he was done.

Even though he did have a point, she still tossed him a playful smirk over her shoulder. "Get your own food then," she said.

"Wadn't complainin'," he backtracked. "Aint gon' see me sayin' no to room service." Michonne shook her head but smiled as she walked out of the cell. By the time she lost sight of him, he'd closed his eyes to snooze until she returned.

When Michonne got downstairs, she made a stop at her cell to get the supplies she needed, opting to wash up and change clothes after her meal. She ran into Rick roaming around with Judith in his arms on her way out. As usual, he was preparing breakfast for her from the water he always boiled first thing in the morning.

"Good morning." She stepped up to his side noticing the bowl of dry baby cereal still on the table. Judith was waving her hands towards the dish clearly enthusiastic about her morning meal.

"Mornin'." Rick offered her a small smile. It was a genuine greeting but also a bit strained if she was reading her friend accurately.

Michonne set her cups on the table after Rick filled his bowl. "You got a little hot water to spare?" Rick gestured for her to help herself and she scooped some of the boiled water into her cups. He didn't fail to catch that she was preparing something for two.

"He okay," Rick asked, concerned but not prying. He sat down at the table and watched as she leaned against the wooden edge next to him.

Michonne shrugged. "He's getting there. It hit him hard but he's working through it."

Rick nodded, shadows passing over his eyes from regrets always lingering close to the surface with him. Blowing on the spooned portion to cool it off first, he fed the cereal into an impatient Judith's mouth and smiled at her delighted reaction.

"How about you?" There hadn't been much time for him to get into his side-adventure from the day before, enduring his own traumatic journey instead of running for his life like the supply run crew. Michonne could relate to how hard Rick was trying to come back from the terrible place he'd found himself after his wife's death. Sometimes he tried so hard it seemed he couldn't breathe or think for getting by minute to minute. But he was better and it saddened her that he'd had such a visceral setback in dealing with his darkness.

Rick flashed her a weak smile. "I'm alright. A little shook up but nothin' I can't handle." Michonne stared at him for moment, assessing whether he was really as fine as he claimed. She saw the struggle in his eyes. No, he wasn't fine. But he was trying, like Daryl; like her too. Like all of them.

So nothing was changed really. Bad or strange things happened and they dealt with it.

"Let me know if that changes," she finally replied, conveying her understanding and her patience for her good friend. They both had reliable support systems within the group; a few things they kept between themselves though. Michonne picked up her cups and turned to get back to Daryl before the water cooled down.

"Hey. You stickin' around for a while after what happened yesterday?"

Rick and Daryl certainly liked to push her buttons. She rolled her eyes but smirked in his direction while pushing herself from the table. "Don't worry, Daryl already got to me. The only place I'm going is to skim off some walkers along the perimeter. Carol said there's been a lot of buildup lately that we need to get on top of."

They both turned as Carl came shuffling out of his cell, bleary eyed and grumpy. Michonne laughed out loud at him but didn't comment. The boy glared at her anyway.

"Well, somebody's not quite ready for farming yet." She walked towards the stairwell leading up to the second level. "See y'all in a few. I might need you open up the fences for me."

Rick brightened, amused by her apprehension. It was about as close to showing fear as she was capable. "Not sure Daryl's gonna let you outta the gates?"

Michonne paused for a moment and sighed. That was a good question and one she wasn't particularly looking forward to getting the answer to.

"We'll see."

TBC ...


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5: Rifts**

After Michonne left his cell, Daryl burrowed under the blanket and turned towards the wall to shut out the world around him. All he wanted to do was revel in the lingering sensations of what Michonne had just done with him. His whole body still tingled where she'd intimately touched him. He rolled his eyes at how girly that sounded, life imitating a romance novel like he'd teased Zach about not twenty-four hours ago.

Except the kid wouldn't have another chance to enjoy it.

Daryl didn't want to think about the day that awaited him just yet, the putting behind losses so he could move forward. Again, he thought of Beth's reaction from the night before upon hearing about Zach's death. He'd originally been disturbed by the coldness of her acceptance but in reality, he knew that was actually the more sensical response. People will be sorry that he died but they'll move on like they always move on.

Dozing off again wasn't an option even if Michonne had just worn him out some. Once he was awake, that was it. He'd always been like that. So he just lay in bed listening to Rick and Judith putter around with their morning routine and the early birds setting up for breakfast outside.

Amusement lingered at the idea of Michonne fetching his meal for him. The crack about stoic morning sex being the usual extent of their romantic gestures hadn't been a joke really. Neither was too keen on emotional sharing or overt displays of affection. It had taken many months to work up to where they were now with each other. He'd been reluctant to even touch her when they first started out, worried that he'd do something wrong. And he wasn't like most people who craved the attention of a loved one—he'd never even known that could be a good thing. In his life, all attention usually got you was an ass-whupping or some other spot of trouble that wasn't ever worth it. Michonne had understood this and shared it to some extent. She'd push him to be bolder in initiating what he wanted from her and was gentle with him if there was something she didn't like. He'd learned that she hated when he tried to sneak up on her and didn't much care for being picked up or carried. But when he got it right? Well, she made sure he felt like a million bucks for the effort.

Yet being intimate with another person was probably always going to be awkward for him. And these difficulties with being close had Daryl questioning what could only be described as doting behavior from Michonne. It was strange but it was nice, kind of like their entire relationship. It had been what he needed; they were starting to become so in tune with each other when it came to that.

The sound of Michonne's laughter caught his attention and his heart sped up at the expectation of her return.

Sure enough, a few moments later she walked back into his cell, two cups in hand. She placed them on his chair while she took a seat at the edge of his bed, pulling two sleeves of instant oatmeal from her pocket.

"I saved the apple cinnamon for you. Don't say I never did anything for you." She smirked down at him while she mixed together his breakfast and handed it off for him to enjoy as he reclined in his bunk.

"This is damn near a gourmet meal." The first taste was a delicious indulgence. They didn't find a lot of stuff like this anymore and instant oatmeal was one of his favorites. He'd eaten a hell of a lot of it growing up and it always hit the spot. It felt surreal laying back and sharing it with Michonne. Even when things were at their worst, he liked that he was making new memories with the people around him. Maybe one day it would erase all the shit he'd taken growing up.

Daryl both loved and hated that this was his life now. Fucked up violence by day and then he woke up to the sweetest peace he's ever known.

Michonne mixed up her own breakfast and ate it sitting beside him. They were their usual quiet selves, preferring an efficient meal over idle conversation. He finished first and hopped off the bed to change his clothes and get ready for the day. She watched him with hooded eyes, still slowly spooning her meal, making the time together last as long as she could. In the background, he could hear Rick and Beth chatting downstairs, Carl joining in soon after.

"What you up to today?" he asked while buttoning his shirt. It never took her long to get her bearings after coming back from a run. She usually found some kind of work to get into.

Michonne finished the last of her oatmeal and set her dirty cup on the chair beside his. "Carol said that there's been a problem with walkers building up in spots along the fence. I noticed it too yesterday when I rode in. So I told her I'd help out with that."

He grabbed his vest from the bed post. "Fence crew, huh?"

She paused. "Sorta." Daryl stilled and turned to her. He did not like the sound of her tone.

"What the hell you mean? Either you are or you aint."

"I am, just not with the other folks. I'm taking Flame out to pare down the trickle that's coming in from the woods and the ones not clustered around those hot spots."

Daryl pursed his lips. "By yourself?"

"No, not by myself." He narrowed his eyes at her. "Flame will be there too." The small smile on her lips only irritated him more. Just like that, his tranquil morning was shot. Did she think risking her life out there was a fucking joke? He thought their disagreements in recent months had sent the message of how seriously he took her safety while trying to respect her independence. She needed to stop being so cavalier about the issue.

Staring at her for several beats, he bowed his head and continued buttoning up his shirt and vest. He wasn't going to argue with her about whether she could take care of herself. He knew she could. But after everything that happened the day before, did she have to go right back out into the thick of things? He realized that nothing was guaranteed these days. Still, with her having been gone all week, it'd be nice to have at least one day where he wasn't worried about her getting killed out there without any backup.

So Daryl bit his tongue and didn't voice any of these concerns. The day had started off nicely and he didn't want to fight with her which is what would happen if he told her he didn't want her going beyond the prison fences. It was too touchy a subject.

Too bad, Michonne wasn't interested in cooperating. "You're pissed. I can tell."

He silently cursed the way she could provoke him. Couldn't she tell he was trying not to start any shit with her?

"It don't matter. You gon' do whatever you want anyway." He returned to fastening up his clothes and tacking his weapons onto his body.

That got her to sit up a bit straighter. "Hold on. You need to back up and actually talk to me instead of just getting mad. You have never had a problem with me doing cleanup duty around the perimeter before. I know that yesterday was hard on you. I understand. But we can't stay huddled inside every time something bad happens."

"Didn't say nothin' 'bout hidin'. Don't mean we need to be ridin' out into walker territory every time they get out 'a hand."

Michonne sighed. "Even if we're compromising everybody's safety."

"Aint compromisin' nothin' by holdin' off a damn day." She rolled her eyes at that. "Funny how you like talkin' 'bout safety when you lookin' to do somethin' you know I aint gon' like."

He went back to tying up his boots. He was sure that if he didn't occupy himself, he'd get in her face about it and that would end poorly. When things got heated for him, it was still difficult to fight the urge to lash out, consequences be damned. It's how he had to be growing up around his father and Merle. But without them around, surrounded by people who used words instead of fists, it meant he had to try and be a different man.

Daryl scrutinized the woman standing by his bunk, a woman who could make him feel so much acceptance and so much frustration all at the same time. "Fine, but I'm 'a go with ya."

Michonne crossed her arms in front of her. "No."

"What you mean 'no' like you got a choice in this?"

Shaking her head, she moved her hands to her hips, ready to match his aggressive stance with an indignant one of her own. "I've got Flame so I have the height and the speed to stay out of harm's way. You out there on foot is just …"

It was Daryl who now crossed his arms, a smugness about him that was sure to incite her temper. "What? Too dangerous? Too stupid? Is that what you gon' say? Do ya hear yourself, Michonne?" He dropped his arms and took a couple step towards her, a slight bitterness in his voice. "'Bout time it starts sinkin' in why I'm always on your ass for puttin' yourself in the line of fire all the damn time."

This got to her. She was fighting it and would be too stubborn to admit it right now but she understood.

Yet she scoffed anyway. He could sense her trying to brush off his sentiment and feign ignorance yet the tension to her body language told another story. "Whatever Daryl." Michonne's words weren't angry; rather, they reflected a weariness over the familiar disagreement between the two. "If you told me you were confident doing something risky that needed to get done, I wouldn't think anything of it."

Daryl picked up his crossbow and slung it on his shoulder. "Yeah? Well maybe that's the problem."

"Oh, we got 'problems' now?" she asked. There was the anger from her. She was leaning against his top bunk shooting daggers at him with her intense brown eyes. Only a few minutes before they had been looking at him with such pleasure and affection.

Taking a deep breath, he tried to calm down so he wouldn't raise his voice at her. "You know what? Forget I said anything."

It was too late though. His short temper had already pissed her off. Michonne had a lot of patience but when she did get mad, it smoldered hot and burned bright. "Don't do me any favors, Dixon. Carol is fine with it. Rick too."

He balled his fists at hearing that. It's not that he wanted to punch something exactly but it was so frustrating when things got like this between them. He wasn't great with words or emotions and when they fought, confronting those things was usually the only way to fix the situation.

"Like I give a rat's ass what Carol or Rick say on this. You think I keep bringin' it up 'cause I'm on the Council. You gotta know that aint it but maybe I need to spell it out. I stay on ya 'cause I'd be tore up if you don't come back. Don't know why I gotta keep explainin' that to ya." Pacing the cell, he almost walked out, even more annoyed at how calm she seemed standing in the middle of _his_ cell as if demanding a better explanation.

Instead of leaving though, he walked right up to her and got in her face. Eyes blazing, he kissed her forehead, briefly resting his against hers, before storming out of the door. The whole display was aggressive, a seeming power-play in their minor war of wills. However, it was more that he needed to get away from her before he went off again about her running head first into danger all the time.

But especially after yesterday, no matter how angry he got with her, he wasn't going to walk away with her thinking he didn't care. It was quite the opposite—he was starting to think he cared too much.

And that was the real problem between them.

TBC ...

* * *

_**AN: Many thanks for reading and for the reviews and alerts!**_


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6: Resonations **

Michonne remained immobile as Daryl stormed out and stomped through the cell block to the exit. She hadn't seen him that upset with her in a while. They'd gotten much better at not letting their disagreements get out of hand; the affirmation of his feelings before walking away in frustration was progress for them. And it kept her from being truly angry. Damn him and his sweetness sometimes.

It didn't make her any less annoyed with his attitude though. He had accused her of creating convenient excuses but she was only doing what they'd always done to keep the prison safe. It was he being the disingenuous one. She had gone out dozens of times, just her or with Flame, on some kind of group business, often involving the potential for encountering walkers. It was actually a bigger deal that she was sticking so close to the prison grounds for this task. Maggie would be in the guard tower watching her the whole time not to mention Rick and Carl being practically underfoot as well. He liked to forgot those important details when he got on his high horse about the risks she took upon herself. If he wanted to get picky about it, this was the kind of thing that _she_ shouldn't have to keep repeating.

As much as she loved him for it, his feelings for her gave him tunnel vision. If they had problems, that was one of them. She realized that he was terrified of losing her, that if it happened, it would rip him apart. And despite his assertions, he had never come out and explicitly admitted that. He'd talked around it, he'd alluded to it but he'd never said it to her face. Yet he acted like she willfully ignored his attachments to her and what they had together.

She knew exactly how it was with him, though, because it was the same for her. If his life was taken by this harsh world, she would survive and recover but she'd never get over it.

Michonne shook her head and grabbed her katana along with their dirty cups. On the main cell block floor, Carl was sitting at the table eating breakfast while Beth went back and forth between Rick's cell and her own, preparing for her day with Judith. As Michonne picked up a few items from her cell to go wash up, she tried to process how to handle life's latest complication.

Even back when she was married, Michonne hadn't been the type of woman that needed grand overtures to know that her partner cared. She especially didn't concern herself about those things now, particularly from Daryl who wouldn't know the first thing of it. And she wasn't heartless; she realized how difficult it was to watch the people you care for being constantly exposed to danger. Yet it was the environment they found themselves in daily. Danger was lurking around every corner. It was pointless to inflate their sense of security but they shouldn't live in a constant state of fear over circumstances that couldn't be changed.

She had never lied to Daryl or kept things from him. Even when she knew it would lead to tensions, she was honest with him about where she was coming from. He needed to do the same, and not just when they argued. In her mind, Daryl was struggling with his feelings for her and because he didn't have a vocabulary for dealing with that, he lashed out. Michonne wasn't much better but the difference was that she was more upfront with him about her limitations. If he needed something from her to feel more solid about where they stood, then snapping at her wasn't going to get him very far. It wasn't something she was proud of but his temper almost always fueled hers. Once she felt backed into a corner, the defensiveness came out and her mouth would shoot off faster than her brain and good sense could regulate.

Or, like now, it was too late for her stubbornness to acknowledge the tender admission he'd revealed, his bittersweet explanation for why he wanted to keep her close.

If their argument was any indication, there were things they had to change about the ways they danced around each other. She wouldn't lose him and she was sure he wasn't willing to let her go. Maybe if they could address this repetitive boundary pushing, things would go more smoothly. Still, it frustrated her that he somehow associated her runs and errands outside the prison as her leaving him when he had nothing to do with her decision at all.

She splashed clean water onto her face, the chill stinging as it hit her skin. The shock of it stirred something in Michonne's thoughts as she bore the discomfort.

_That_ was what he'd been angry about—that she didn't consider him in her decisions.

Neither had embraced the endearments one would associate with their relationship. She wasn't his "girlfriend" and, unlike Glenn and Maggie or even Tyreese and Karen, they weren't remotely defined by the fact that they were together. They'd gotten by with just letting things progress naturally rather than putting labels on what was between them. Outside of being close friends and intimate companions, they operated quite independently from each other at the prison. She knew what she meant to Daryl and tried to convey how deeply she cared for him. Thinking back on his words, maybe she didn't work hard enough at that.

She sighed and finished cleaning herself up before heading back to her cell, glad to have had the bathroom to herself and avoid the morning rush. As she changed her clothes, she rolled these new revelations around in her mind trying to decide what to do with the information. Could she admit that she and Daryl were in a place where making decisions about her role in the prison meant keeping his opinion in mind? How did that work and how much ownership did he get over her activities—or her over his?

No matter how relationship savvy she'd been in the past, dealing with these issues now left her feeling stunted and clumsy. The indecisiveness was off-putting and conjured a harsher vulnerability than being out in wild territory with the threat of walkers and humans in every shadow.

Michonne again picked up the dirty cups she'd brought from Daryl's cell to clean. Looking at the two remnants of their morning together caused a tightness in her chest. In those earlier moments, it seemed so natural the way their routines would overlap, a commingling that satisfied them both. That connection didn't have to change how they contributed around the prison. However, perhaps it wouldn't hurt her to acknowledge that it changed how they went about fulfilling those duties. Turning the cups in her hands, she shifted her katana farther up her shoulder and left to complete her tasks for the morning.

By the time she wandered out to prep and unhitch Flame, much of Michonne's anger had dissipated. But the burgeoning emotional unknowns incited a new strain of worry. Even though the words she and Daryl had exchanged still hurt, she figured that they'd work it out, no matter how painful it was going to be for the both of them to confront their demons. They just needed time to cool off. Greeting Carl and Rick in the distance, she put the tense events of the morning aside.

She flashed Rick a sheepish look. "So you mind letting me out the gate?"

Rick laughed. "Went that well, did it?" Her grimace was sufficient response. "No problem. Let's go." She joined the two Grimes boys as they headed farther away from the main building. "Some day you're gonna go easy on that guy for once," Rick offered.

"I will if he will."

Carl cocked his head up at her with a half smile. "Are you and Daryl fighting? Because whatever you did, you should just apologize and he'll get over it." Michonne would never understand why her and Daryl's disagreements always amused people. Even during their worst fight, people treated their arguments like an elementary school brawl at recess.

She narrowed her eyes at her young friend's nosiness. "Why are you so sure I did something wrong?" Better yet, she wondered why she was arguing with a teenager.

Rolling his eyes, Carl smirked at her. "Uh, you just got back yesterday and we're letting you out of the gates. Ninety-five percent of your fights are about you leaving the prison. It's not that hard to figure out. I'd be mad too if you were my girlfriend." That part was probably true. He had definitely been annoyed with her for leaving so quickly to join the Big Spot run. And because she still felt guilty for not spending enough time with him, she decided to ignore his use of the 'girlfriend' label even though he was quite aware that she didn't like it.

"How do you know what we fight about?" Michonne asked a bit put out. Meanwhile Rick was looking entirely too pleased about the conversation between his son and his friend.

"Everybody knows. The prison's not that big a place." He ignored her irritation and moved to walk in between her and his father. "So how you play this is to do whatever it is he doesn't want you to do and then come back and apologize. You both win."

Scowling, Michonne turned to Rick. "You know if this farming thing doesn't work out, your son definitely shouldn't go into counseling."

Rick shrugged. "I don't know, sounds like a good plan to me."

Watching as Rick opened up the first fence for her, Michonne mounted her horse and trotted up to the gate. "I'm through with both of you," she said, grinning.

"We'll let Daryl know we got our eyes on you, Maggie too," Rick shouted after her with good humor. "Be safe."

Michonne waved and then pulled her katana before steering Flame into the grassy fields.

Optimism wasn't her strong suit but she couldn't see much trouble brewing from skimming off a few walkers by horseback; Daryl would get his stew time brooding around the cell blocks and she'd get in her chores for the day.

Both would have time to reflect and then they'd come back together and work things out. They always did.

TBC ...


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7: Laments **

Daryl paused to adjust the bandana covering his nose and mouth. He was only partway through the graves that were needed but it felt like he'd been digging for hours.

In the distance, he saw a crew picking off the walkers at the fence. Inside the prison, Hershel, Dr. S and Bob were trying to make heads or tails of what had happened in D Block. There were corpses everywhere, some with faces covered in their own blood, others bitten and turned before meeting the ultimate end. He was aware of the body count yet every time Glenn and Rick brought out another member of their fallen group, Daryl's anger would grow.

Last night he'd complained about how tired he was of losing people. And like a sick joke, fifteen more were dead, most of them gone barely after he'd even opened his eyes on the day. While he enjoyed his woman through the night and fought with her come morning, a bunch of folks he was supposed to protect were killed in their damn beds. He gave an especially harsh push into the dirt at that last thought.

They'd spent months getting ready for the winter and preparing their home with supplies and fortifications to start new. When he looked around, he saw signs of something better than running around on the road taking temporary shelter before the walkers would overrun them. There were crops and livestock, all kinds of contraptions to do everything from pumping water to keeping the perimeter clear. Except now he was digging graves to dump the bodies of all the people who would never reap the benefits of their hard work.

All because of a glorified cold.

There wasn't anyone to go after or a better structure to keep out this type of danger. No amount of planning or stockpiling would have prevented it. It just happened and it was fucking horrible. Now they had to worry about quarantining people and salvaging what they could from the threat of something they didn't really understand.

Before all hell broke loose, he'd been washing up and stewing about his fight with Michonne. A stupid, complacent indulgence he thought of it now. Then came the screams from D Block. Crossbow in hand, he'd run right into the thick of the chaos. The next five minutes commenced a blur of blood and body parts, knife-wounds to the head and gunshots echoing off the concrete. Mothers lost their kids and daughters lost fathers; wives and husbands were now widows and friends were gone forever. As with Zach, he'd been friendly with a few of the people over there, although they weren't as tight as his original Atlanta crew. He cursed the losses. And his silent gratefulness for certain lives preserved made him feel worse.

In the distance Rick was coming towards him and he wondered what the older man needed from him. He'd honestly come out to be by himself and get his thoughts in order. But he'd step up where it was required, as usual, and Rick seemed to be heading for him with a purpose in mind. After the council met and moved forward with their plans, Rick stopped him for a few seconds to assure him that everyone else at the prison was fine, Michonne included. Apparently, she'd been hurt some kind of way—he'd have to get the story later. She was in one piece though and separated from everyone that had been infected. Before Rick could explain anything else, Carol called him over to help deal with Mika and Lizzie's father so the girls could pack their things.

Daryl moved on to dig more graves.

He recognized the stress on Rick's face as soon as he walked up. The man was taking all of this hard, although Daryl was unsure the extent of it. That was Rick—always caring more than anyone did or should. It's how he lost his way a while back. Right now, he looked like a man who needed his own brand of reassurance.

"Glad you were in there," Daryl called out to him, not missing a beat in the digging he was doing. He'd gotten used to Rick taking a back seat so it felt like old times to see him in action. It had clearly rattled him in some way though and Daryl was upset for him on that count.

"Wasn't much use without my gun," Rick said. Perhaps it was regret Daryl heard in his voice. Or powerlessness if he were to guess on it.

He paused his digging and pulled down the cloth protecting his face. Hershel had insisted on the precaution and Daryl respected the request. However, he didn't see how it was going to make a difference if that flu or whatever was everywhere around them anyway, especially when they'd all been nosing around D Block for the better part of the morning.

"No you were. All this time you been takin' off? Ya earned it. We wouldn't be here without you."

Quick to brush him off, Rick dismissed the compliment. "It was all of us."

"Naw. It was you first." Rick only looked away, silent and brooding. Even though he wouldn't admit it, Rick still carried the responsibility of the group on his shoulders whether he was farming or leading. He only needed to reconcile that within himself. The people who care about him, who know what kind of man he truly is, chose to be patient with him on that. They really did believe that Rick deserved to find his peace after the tragedies he'd endured last summer. And personally, Rick had never let him down and had always tried to do the right thing. That made all the difference to Daryl.

Daryl poked at the soft earth at his feet. "Thanks for checkin' on Michonne earlier. "'Specially now with everythin' Hershel said, I don't wanna risk gettin' close to her."

Rick seemed relieved to have the focus off of himself and what more he could be doing for the community. "Interesting that you put it like that. I heard y'all had a bit of a disagreement this morning."

"Same old, same old. Like how keen folks are to get up in our business." The last Daryl said with a bit of a smirk. It was a nosiness bred out of concern so both he and Michonne tolerated it without too much fuss.

Chuckling, Rick shuffled by the head of the hole Daryl was digging. "Naw, it's not like that. Before all this went down, I did promise I'd tell you how I was lookin' out for her. Me, Carl and Maggie. So you'd know she wasn't being irresponsible or anything."

Daryl sighed and started digging again. "We'll be fine. We were just fussin' like usual. Don't mean much."

"If you say so," he said.

Daryl straightened at his friend's words, Rick's tone triggering a paranoia in him. "Why? She say somethin' 'bout it?"

When he had left her this morning, Michonne didn't seem any more irritated than usual. If she had actually been angry, she would have fought back harder. Or so he assumed. And before he walked out, he thought he'd been clear that he just needed to stew in his frustration some so he could get over it.

Perhaps he'd misread her and their argument had hurt her more than he realized. That possibility caused a bit of a panic. He'd flown off the handle a little but it didn't mean that he didn't want to be with her, pretty much the opposite, in fact. What if he pushed her too far? Without having any experience with being close to people, it too often felt like he was on the verge of fucking things up for not knowing the right thing to do or say.

Rick's immediate denial was also a plea for his calm, probably after realizing what his choice of words had incited. "No. No, she didn't say much about it." More likely, he didn't want to get involved but if that were the case he should have just kept his mouth shut about the whole thing in the first place.

"By the way, she only twisted her ankle a bit gettin' back into the prison. Nothing major. She's more pissed off at herself than hurt, probably because she's gonna have to admit that you were partly right for worrying about her. And for what it's worth, Carl sassed her good about it too. He might have taken some 'a the heat off 'a ya."

Daryl's irritation turned to amusement. He stared up at Rick, blocking out the sun with his hand. "You don't say?" Now that sounded like business as usual. Carl had a way of seeing Michonne's side of things more often than not. He and the kid were good about teaming up, though, when the cause was getting her to stick around the prison more.

Resuming his work, he adjusted his bandana. "I'll take it, I guess. 'Sides, I probably jumped the gun a little." Since he'd been out here digging, he'd gone over the conversation a few times to get his mind off of the horrors he'd just seen. Even though he didn't like that Michonne was so flippant about being on the front line of things, this wasn't one of those times. She'd been right that she'd done similar jobs before and neither had thought much of it. The situation at the Big Spot had rattled him so taking that stress out on her was something he was going to have to apologize for. She'd owe him one too for pushing his buttons and ultimately proving the point by getting herself messed up.

"Well, you know how she is. You knew it before y'all started out. She could stand to be better too. Might even be willing to admit it this time."

"I aint gon' hold my breath on that," Daryl huffed. "But stranger things have happened I s'pose."

This wasn't going to break them. No matter how much she worked his nerves, she never looked to make him feel bad on purpose. Except on this one issue, she was almost always as considerate as she could manage. The girl was stubborn though. Normally, he liked that about her but not today.

Pausing again, Daryl turned back to Rick, still hovering above him. With everything that happened this morning and his help getting him and Michonne back on track, he couldn't help fall back on wanting Rick to be a part of fixing things. "Anyway, you gonna help us figure this out? What with this sickness maybe spreadin' 'round the prison?"

Rick got real tense, reacting to the subtext of what Daryl was asking. "I screwed up too many times." He looked directly at Daryl when he said it, as if it were crucial he be completely understood on this. "Those calls you gotta make, I start down that road? I almost lost my boy, who he was."

Daryl nodded and shifted around to occupy himself, diffuse some of the anxiety coming off Rick.

"Whatever else this place needs, I'm here for it." Rick reassured from above him.

"Like I said, ya earned it." Daryl was quick to accept Rick's mind on it because that's what the older man needed. No matter what he said though, sooner or later, Daryl knew he was going to put that gun back on and take a stand with them. It was only a matter of time. Either he'd do it for himself or circumstances would push him to it; the former would be a lot easier on his conscience but the latter is what would likely account for the last straw.

And no matter the motivation, Daryl thought the group would be better for his acceptance of leadership again.

"For what it's worth, you see mistakes? I see when the shit hits, you're standin' there with a shovel." There was no hesitation, only conviction to his words.

Before Rick could respond, shouts from the distance put both of them on quick alert. Maggie. Looking past her, they saw a crowd of walkers gathered at one spot on the fence and a group of people trying to hold them off. They were losing the battle and the fence was buckling like a tin can under a tire.

Daryl dropped his shovel and followed Rick who was already running toward the fence line.

Shit, it was always something. This day could go straight to hell.

TBC ...

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_**AN: Thanks again for the feedback and alerts and willingness to stay along for the ride. It's all quite helpful and motivating. **_


	8. Chapter 8

_**Author's Note: I just wanted to offer a belated warning that there are some spoilers for the comics in the character elements of Michonne. Apologies for not making that clear earlier.**_

* * *

**Chapter 8: Echoes**

An emptiness crept over the cell block but Michonne's heart still hammered inside her chest. She couldn't push down the panic of fighting walkers with her bare hands or the blur of Carl and Maggie coming to her aid.

Even Beth's calm, guarded presence across from her couldn't quell her anxiety. It had gripped her as soon as she heard that first gunshot and rushed back to the prison to help. That one piercing sound kept resonating in her mind even as it triggered the constant rotation of conflicting emotions inside of her: relief at being alive and uselessness for getting herself hurt before she could join in the fight; anger and regret that others risked themselves to come to her aid. She grieved with the people who were blindsided by the threat that inexplicably found its way into the prison.

And all those people dead. The throbbing in her foot was the least of her worries when her head and heart were aching this much.

Once again, she reminded herself that Maggie and Carl were okay. Rick was okay. And Daryl was okay too, always first to jump into the thick of the danger himself. Rick had been adamant that she, Maggie and Carl as well as Beth and the baby stay away from him and the others who had responded to the walkers that infested D Block. Dr. S and Hershel were speculating that some type of flu was responsible and without knowing much more than that, it was best that those not exposed to it stay that way.

In times like this, she'd gotten used to seeing Daryl across the way confirming that whatever obstacle they were facing, it had no chance against the two of them working together. That thought was beginning to disgust her. Since when did she need another person to help her cope? It was dangerous to depend on people that way. It wasn't so long ago that she'd vowed never to succumb to this impulse, this relying on people to keep her going everyday. Even with Andrea, she'd kept her distance, wanting to protect her friend but not at the expense of herself.

Earlier, she'd criticized Daryl for getting too close to her and not being able to handle it but she now realized that she was guilty of that too. And when things settled down, she needed to think long and hard about how she was going to fix that.

Her ears picked up the sound of someone dragging yet another body outside to be buried. Was there anyone in this world who wasn't fated to die horribly? And here she was sitting in the quiet of her cell being tended to for her worthless role in the latest melee; as a bonus, she could have gotten Maggie and Carl killed in the process. Michonne winced at the pang of guilt this caused as well as the feel of Beth gingerly inspecting her slightly swollen ankle before reaching for a bandage to wrap it.

Michonne jumped upon hearing Beth's voice and added jittery to the list of unacceptable traits overtaking her.

"Did you see anything?" Beth asked, most certainly afraid of the details she may learn.

"They just started taking out the dead."

"I don't need to know who yet. I don't want to." She readjusted her wrap and then continued twining the bandage around her ankle. "Glad you came back safe."

"It was stupid," Michonne said aloud, without really meaning to. "I was so stupid." There were so many wrong steps to her day it was hard to choose which one to dwell upon. Right now, her mind swam with thoughts of the worst transgression. "When I fell on my ass they should have just left me out there."

When she'd gotten caught between the gates and the inner fence, she'd jumped off Flame to protect her from the walkers. But she didn't get down in time to draw her katana and two attacking walkers had almost gotten the best of her. Carl had to take out one of them, defying his father's orders in the process. And then she'd hurt her ankle holding off the other until Maggie could run out to help. It had been awful to watch Carl's terrified confession to Rick about shooting that gun, his panic the result of her carelessness, not his.

Her anger and guilt flared back up thinking of her two friends being exposed to extra trauma because of her inability to take care of them. And even though it was petty, she didn't want to think of how smug Daryl was going to be about her injury.

Stupid. All of it.

Beth's scoff brought her attention back to the petite woman in front of her. "Now that's stupid. We care about you. We're not going to just leave you out there to get killed by walkers just like you wouldn't do that to us."

"They could have gotten hurt!" She didn't expect Beth to understand. She spent her days inside the prison walls tending to Judith and keeping house. It was important work to the group but she also didn't have to confront the decay of the world on the same level as some of the others who ventured farther out from the prison. She hadn't seen that devastation in a long time. The stability of prison life faded the horrors that still thrived beyond their civilization.

"When you care about people, hurt is kinda part of the package."

Michonne thought of Zach, not even dead a day. Maybe Beth had her own awareness after all.

"Were there any kids?" The question prompted a glimmer of hope but Michonne had none of that for her today and nodded. Beth pursed her lips, determined to retain her firm ambivalence.

Michonne's mind flashed to the woman carrying the body of her child outside, grief pouring out of her. She could never remember the woman's name and somehow that made her feel worse. Grinding her teeth, Michonne focused her attention back to the pain in her foot and Beth's words, anything not to recall the scene from before. Those images of that mother summoned the familiarity of her anguish and the recognizable cadence of moving something so precious and light and vacant. Michonne couldn't bear to reflect on what she must be going through, to _know_ what she's experiencing. Not right now or ever again could she entertain those thoughts.

As if on cue, Beth continued her musings, oblivious to Michonne's inner struggle. "Got all these widows and orphans. But what do you call someone that lost a child. You think someone would've given that a name."

Choking down something bitter mounting inside of her, Michonne took a calming breath. "Maybe that's a word no one wants to think about." Her suggestion was detached, unyielding. "Shorthand for something so ..." Shaking her head, she gazed up at the light coming through the high cell block windows. She had never found an appropriate combination of words to finish the thought.

A happy gurgle erupted from the corner where Judith was playing with some plastic coups. Michonne had almost forgotten her she had been so quiet. Normally, she'd smile at the child's antics but not today. There were too many terrible memories rising up to haunt her once again.

Hearing a crash coming from Judith's pallet, the gurgles turned into whimpers of frustration yet Beth was in no rush to address it. The child wasn't in trouble, she was just whining because she'd thrown the cups too far to reach. As the whimpers turned to shrieks, Michonne squeezed her eyes shut, pushing back recollections of another time when she'd been powerless to stop the cries of a child in distress. It was like the two sounds were overlapping in her mind, one in the present with hope for consolation and one in the past whose fate was sealed in tragedy.

Every muscle tightened as Judith's crying grew louder and Beth finally rose up to attend to her. "You okay?" she asked, pausing to check Michonne over for other injuries.

"Does she always cry like that?" Although she thought Judith was a beautiful, good-natured little girl, Michonne enjoyed her from afar mostly. But she couldn't remember any instances of her wailing like this. Surely if she was making that much noise then Beth should do something, anything to make it better. That's all Judith wanted was for someone to make it better and keep her safe.

Finally, Beth picked Judith up, getting only a minimal reduction in the volume of her cries. "I think she senses people's moods." She walked out, soothing the baby in her arms and giving Michonne's foot one last look.

As the two receded down the hallway, Michonne let out a long breath. Even with her adrenaline burning off, she was still crawling out of her skin, frustrated at the common sense of staying off her hurt foot for a while. She yearned to do something active, clear her mind of everything right now with mindless, focused action. The base survivor in her wanted no thoughts of friendships or death or being in love. No sound of that baby ringing in her ears.

Sliding down to the floor, she flipped over onto her stomach and began doing push ups, one leg supported at the knee. She monitored her progress in a hushed rhythm.

One.

Two.

Three …

Michonne carried on from pushups to chin-ups, arm stretches to crunches; her breathing kept time with the pulse of her exertions. She directed her mind to focus on pushing her body physically and not on the panic that was finally receding from across her nerves. Judith had quieted down and Beth was bouncing her as she paced the cell block from end to end, occasional soothing words accompanying her steps.

Twenty-five.

Twenty-six.

Twenty-seven …

Beth began to sing to Judith and the sound of her lovely voice further soothed both child and warrior. Michonne was too far away to note the tune but it was gentle and lilting, not mournful but not too upbeat. As she got closer, she directed her attention to the rise and fall of Beth's smooth tones.

_When I'm lyin' in my bed at night  
__I don't wanna grow up  
__Nothin' ever seems to turn out right  
__I don't wanna grow up  
__How do you move in a world of fog  
__That's always changing things  
__Makes me wish that I could be a dog …_

Michonne tensed, looking up to catch a glimpse of Beth with Judith. Her affection was lulling the child into a calmness that the little one couldn't yet appreciate. But Michonne's anxiety was back, stronger than ever.

_When I see the price you pay  
__I don't wanna grow up  
__Nothing seems to go my way  
__Only thing to live for is today—_

"Some lullaby," Michonne choked out as Beth passed by her cell. Her comment was less about curiosity and more about just getting her to stop. Stop with the singing and the taunting and how it triggered everything she'd worked hard to forget.

"I just sing her what I like," Beth answered casually. Judith chose that moment to cast her vote on the matter, perhaps, coughing and spitting up all over Beth's shoulder.

The younger girl rushed in and kneeled to push Judith away from her. "Shoot. Can you hold her for a minute."

Seeing the child so close to her, Michonne could barely hear the words Beth was asking. The bile rose in her throat and the tightness crept back into her chest. Instinctively, she shook her head, mumbling her dissent. When Beth insisted, she heard herself get louder.

No. No. "No!"

It was the way Beth looked at her when she said that, the shock and bit of fear, the confusion. Michonne coiled herself tighter. Usually she encouraged the others to treat her with a certain level of caution. It was right that they be wary. However, as she'd gotten to know certain people, she'd forgotten how awful that reaction could be coming from someone you trusted and who you thought trusted you. Seeing that expression of wonder as if they don't know you at all.

Fighting the panic, she reached for Judith and held the child away from her, hearing Beth's quick footsteps retreating behind her. She'd held the little girl dozens of times yet this time it was almost unbearable. When they were this age, they all felt so similar. Both of her girls…

No, she wouldn't go there. She mentally scolded herself not to think about her, not to look.

As Judith squirmed in her arms, the pull to her became a weight in her arms that led straight to her heart. The child's cries called to her, implored her to acknowledge and sooth and comfort.

Michonne chanced a glance at her and it was over.

The softness of Judith's full cheek brushed against her hand; her watery eyes searched hers for answers. Her wispy hair was swept to the side and it smelled just as it should, even in the dirty mustiness of the prison. Michonne could sense these things because she'd slowly drawn the girl ever closer to her. Everything was coming back now, the years of cradling her girls to sleep and evening baths. Visions of their first steps and first words forced their way to the surface of her thoughts like storm waves displacing sand. Before she knew it, she held Judith tightly to her and the tears were streaming down her face as she was bombarded with emotions from joy to heartbreak to the emptiness of mourning the loss of her most beloved.

The tears on the child's cheeks were drying, feeling uncertain in the arms of this lost mother but also feeling safe and cared for. Michonne's own tears kept falling; tears she'd promised herself would never surface again. They were pouring from her eyes and settling into silent sobs.

She heard Beth come and go. The scramble of controlled activity outside and shouts of directions tossed back and forth didn't register. Judith cuddled into her, no longer weeping but not cooing either; somehow understanding the painful comfort of their embrace.

And Michonne cried until she was empty.

TBC ...


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9: Chasm (Part I of II)**

Activity throughout the prison had slowed almost to a standstill. The frenzy and panic were replaced by a regrouping of efforts to make sense of the losses. Many were finding the search for answers difficult. Handling the disaster in D Block relied on an almost unthinking instinct and aggression; creating solutions required reflection on everything that had gone wrong.

And the return to a sense of normalcy ushered in the first wave of mourning.

Daryl counted the number of bodies waiting to be buried. No matter how few of their dead remained, it was still too many. At least the walkers were held at bay for the time being, drawn away by Rick's diversion. There was much left to do, though. As the dirt kicked up in the wind, Daryl noticed that he was parched from sucking in the dusty air and running around in the heat of the day. He was tired too, not so much physically. More like worn down. Carol had seen it after the last Council meeting and was worried. There wasn't nothing to be done about it except to carry on.

The handful of people who worked at repairing the fences had taken a break. It was a good thing. Everyone needed a short rest and some space to breath freely again after dealing with the latest attack. Daryl figured he'd go back to digging graves but he opted to step away for a while as well.

While out by their small cemetery, only him and those bodies, he'd been at a low point. Anger and frustration simmered with each hole he dug out. At the time, everything seemed to have gone off the rails. All that they'd built fell dangerously close to being lost and the things that he cared about were slipping through his fingers. Then Rick had reminded him that they had survived plenty of bad stuff together yet were still alive with a small bit of happiness on top of that. They would handle this newest obstacle the same as all the others: by pulling together.

Eventually, he'd come around to the idea that the situation wasn't as bad as he'd thought, not with the prison, not with this illness and not with Michonne. Working with Rick and the group to keep their home safe had restored Daryl's sense of purpose, sparked a bit of hope that they'd see this latest setback through even if he had no idea how the specifics would shake out.

Now, trudging towards the building complex, Daryl had regrets about the tranquility Rick lost right when Daryl had found meaning in their struggles. He tried to brush aside his guilt despite his sympathies. It felt good being his friend's wingman again, a moment of familiarity in the middle of chaos. As he'd thought earlier, it was only a matter of time before Rick rejoined their efforts and stepped up as a problem solver instead of a bystander. Earning time to wallow in his tragedies was one thing but hanging back when he could be doing so much more bordered on foolishness.

Daryl walked by the outdoor eating area to grab a cup and take a long drink from one of the tanks. The cool water was delicious and he felt better for having taken the time to replenish. Feeling better about where his day was heading, he next wandered toward his cell block to make a pit stop for a few things. Hershel confirmed that it was okay as long as he didn't linger and kept his distance from the others. With his cell being away from most everyone anyway, he could be in and out without drawing much notice.

And he was hoping to maybe catch a glimpse of Michonne, see that she was alright and assure her that he was too.

Just in case, he took the back way. When he spotted Beth and Lil Asskicker, they were clear across the block thankfully. Beth nodded in his direction but made no move towards him; someone must have warned her about keeping her distance, Maggie probably. He signaled anyway for her to stay where she was. Ascending the stairwell, he jerked his head towards Michonne's cell, a silent question as to her general well-being. Beth smiled sadly and pointed up towards the other side of the room.

A somber resignation was how she'd reacted. Something about Michonne had rattled the usually stoic and easygoing young woman. And if Michonne had hobbled up to the catwalk on her bad foot, it meant that she was going out of her mind.

Whatever the circumstances, seeing Michonne wasn't likely to do much to ease his mind.

Surely, being sidelined because of her injury was eating at her; it'd be unbearable to him too, especially with all that had gone on today. It was funny how similar their instincts were even though their lives before they met had been so different. Just like him, if there was a threat, she wanted to be in on the front line.

Calm mood now gone, Daryl made his way to his cell and threw a few items into a bag. He'd find some other place to bunk down until they figured out a long-range plan. His next stop was to seek out Michonne and see for himself how badly damaged she was.

He found her on the upper catwalk right where Beth had suggested. The cane Hershel used on occasion rested next to her against the fence. There were a few people coming and going below her and she clutched the metal grating as she watched them. She held a faraway look, one he recognized from her darker days; her mood was worse than he thought.

The sound of his footsteps entering the walkway from the opposite end drew her attention but only for a moment. Those few seconds were enough for him to see everything. All of his earlier hope drained out of him.

In her face, he recognized defeat and it chilled him even in the mild heat. It had never occurred to him that she was capable of such an emotion. Instinctively, the man in him wanted to protect his woman and step up to fight her demons for her. The friend in him simply wanted to run to her and hold her until everything bad in the world righted itself.

If only he could get close enough to comfort her.

On autopilot, Daryl had taken a few steps towards her but forced himself to stop. Images of what he'd seen in D block flashed in his mind, the bloody faces and cold, bloated bodies riddled with disease. It was a horrible way to go and there was no way he would risk that happening to Michonne because of his weaknesses. He needed to keep his distance.

What he didn't know was what had brought this on. It couldn't have been because of him; if Rick had checked in on her, surely his friend would have confirmed that he was fine. Was the frustration at being injured that high? Or was it something else entirely? She'd been crying and that was something he'd only seen once when she'd been faced with Andrea's death. The signs were all there, the puffy eyes, the despondent posture, such sadness pouring out of a woman who usually projected strength and a fierce deadliness.

Several feet from where she stood, Daryl clenched the metal barrier in his fists and willed himself to calm down enough to ask what the hell had happened and how he could fix it. She beat him to the punch; he heard her soft voice reaching out to him, her tone raw and sedate.

"You okay?" she asked.

Was _he_ okay? This woman made him crazy without even trying.

"What's goin' on, Michonne? I know neither 'a us is one for words but talk to me and tell me what's wrong."

She bowed her head and let out a breath. "What the hell isn't wrong right now?"

"We're both standin' here for one. This day aint been no picnic but there's that."

Shaking her head, she finally turned to face him, such hurt in her eyes. "You're right. I'm sorry. And I'm sorry about before, I—"

"I aint thinkin' on that no more. It's done. It wadn't nothin' but our usual shit. It don't mean I …"

He didn't even know how to finish that. Or rather, he was afraid to finish it. Most of the day had consisted of dodging danger and dead bodies, spending a morning killing people he'd only yesterday been shooting the fucking breeze with. A total shitshow. All except those blissful moments of just her and him, waking up to hot sex and starting the day with the surprise of her more nurturing side. The earlier anxiety over losing her hung in the back of his mind yet what he'd just witnessed on her face felt even more devastating. He couldn't deny anymore what she meant to him. This constant fretting and fussing over her pointed to one conclusion: he was in love with her, whatever the hell that meant.

But he was worse than she when it came to talking, and discussing his feelings was damn near impossible. They were at a volatile place right now and he wasn't going to spill his guts out to her like some lovesick fool. Not when he was this agitated or she this traumatized.

He shuffled a little where he stood but kept his tight hold on the fence to keep from approaching her. Their fight seemed like so long ago. "You had a point too. I was holdin' ya back when you was just tryin' to take care 'a what needed doin'."

"My ankle would disagree," she said, the smallest hint of humor in her response.

"Yeah, I heard. You gon' be alright?"

Michonne shrugged. "It's not bad and Beth wrapped it up good."

They stood in silence, his unease and curiosity hanging between them. She'd yet to address his initial question, not for a lack of explanation but, if he was reading her right, because there was so much to say. What he really wanted to do was grill her about whatever was bothering her because it had to be something damn near catastrophic to bring her down like this. While he'd learned that it often took a bit of time for her to reveal her troubles, Daryl wasn't a patient man. With people dying so quickly and the threat of others getting sick, including himself, it was hard to ignore that "later' wasn't guaranteed for anyone. But he didn't have the energy to force her to open up if she wasn't ready.

"I'm 'a go finish helpin' with the graves in a minute but I'm glad I got to check in on you."

"I'm glad I got to see you too." Her distressed smile tugged at his conscience again. "I can come down and help. I saw Maggie out there earlier so it should be okay as long as I keep my distance. And I don't need both feet to dig. "

Shaking his head, Daryl turned his back to the fence. "Naw, we got some folks on it. You should stay off that ankle for a while." She nodded. Glancing over at her again, he slid down to sit in order to keep from walking over to her. Even if they weren't an especially touchy kind of couple, he did enjoy being near her when the occasion arose. The exhaustion from dealing with walkers and dead bodies and deadly colds hit him in that moment; his emotions were frazzled with all the loss and fear and the admission that he was in love with a stubborn, fearless amazing woman who challenged him more than anyone ever had.

He wanted more time with her even if he couldn't be close.

A moment later, she lowered herself to the ground to sit with him from the other end of the catwalk. They fell into a steady silence, so much unresolved between them but not wanting to be anywhere except with each other.

TBC ...


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10: Chasm (Part II of II)**

Several people milled out in the distance, the smoke from the burning pig pen drifted overhead and the silence between Daryl and Michonne hovered between them as they tried to find the right words to reconnect.

Daryl drew his knees up and rested his arms on top of them. "I heard Carl had my back earlier."

There was a lightness to her response and it gave Daryl a little lift to hear it. "Oh yeah. He gave me a piece of his mind. Told me to apologize." The spark fizzled and she sighed. "Could have got himself hurt for his concern."

Brow furrowed, he tried to read what was behind the guarded shadows in her eyes. "Michonne, please. Tell me?" He wanted to let her do this at her own pace but he was tired and she was going to implode if she didn't get whatever troubled her off her chest. He resolved to sit there for the rest of the day if he had to.

Apparently, she didn't have the energy to fight him either. She propped her ankle up against her shin to elevate it a bit. Her voice was steely and tight as she began to explain.

"I came back through the gate when I heard the gunshots but a couple of walkers got caught inside with me. I couldn't get off Flame fast enough to get my katana out. Carl had to take one out with the spare shotgun and I hurt my ankle holding off the other one until Maggie came out to finish it off." As her story unfolded, her agitation built, reflecting the bitterness of her tone. "The worst part was that I fell flat on my ass in the middle of it all. They had no business being out there and I didn't do anything but make a bad situation worse."

Daryl winced at the pain in her voice, coupled with guilt and weariness. The tough ones were always the hardest on themselves. And on this matter, he had little sympathy to give her.

"That's messed up but don't come cryin' to me about it. I aint gon' hate on nobody for havin' your back. I know how ya are. You feel bad that they were out there but it's a waste 'a time spinnin' your wheels on it." Michonne seemed to accept his no nonsense explanation, not disagreeing with any particular point. "Hell, look at what happened in D Block. The shit can hit anytime, anywhere. And when that shit happens, we all do what we gotta."

Michonne was quiet for a moment, absorbing his words. When her emotions got complicated, it often took her a little time to figure out how to feel.

"I know," she said at last. "It still sucks though." She twisted herself so she could face him but didn't try to counter him. Glancing out into the field, she tracked a couple of people resuming the grave digging. "When everything happened and it all hit me, I couldn't wrap my head around it, you know. Some kind of super flu taking out our people and walkers all over D Block?" She shook her head in disbelief. "All those folks dead and I'm worrying it could have been you or Rick or Glenn and then I feel bad for thinking that."

Daryl nodded, understanding that strange kind of survivor's guilt.

"Maggie and Carl are okay but what if they hadn't been?" she continued. "That wouldn't have been because of walkers or some virus, it would have been because of me."

His frustration flared up once more. "You can't think like that. If anything woulda happened, it woulda been 'cause 'a how screwed up things are, not 'cause 'a you. What were you supposed to do, not come back and help? Were Maggie and Carl supposed to watch you get tore up by walkers? That's fucking ridiculous." Neither would have left Michonne for dead no matter what she would have preferred—and if they had given up on her, they best pray he never found out about it.

Only a fool would take that reasoning seriously and Michonne was no fool. So despite how she was struggling, he could see that she understood what he was saying.

"I know it sounds crazy but it's how I felt at the time. And then I'm sitting there with Beth and Judith replaying how quickly Maggie and Carl could have been gone, how quickly _you_ could have been gone. And I'm thinking that I can't do this anymore." Michonne began scratching at the wooden barrier lining the fence. "We're always gonna lose people. And this time when death came knocking I couldn't have your back in D Block. Instead, I'm putting a gun back in Carl's hands and leading Maggie into the line of fire. What would I have told Glenn if something happened to her? Or Rick if something happened to Carl? These things were running through my mind all at once." Her body almost shook with the intensity of the near loss. "Then Judith starts crying and, Daryl, I just lost it. It reminded me of them. I wasn't able to save them because I was too trusting and too weak. That danger snuck up on me and it was so close and it tore me up all over again. I should have been ready for it."

"Oh, babe." It was all he could get out. He scrutinized Michonne, noticing the way her eyes were clenched shut as if warding off something awful. She sniffled a little but no tears appeared when she opened them up again. There was only a blank stare holding off a torrential pain.

The "them" to whom she referred was obvious. Her daughters, the ones she rarely talked about even to him. Caring about her as he did, the pull towards her was stronger than ever. Now it took all his self-control to stay where he was, gripping his knees to keep from jumping to his feet and crossing the short distance between them. Another callback to the bloody massacre in D Block kept him grounded. Added to that was a panicked Tyreese leading a sick Karen to quarantine.

When he chanced a glance at her, she was smiling sadly at him, sensing his frustration at their distance; struggling with her own impulses as well. "I'm better now, drained but better. I came up here to get some air and think. The walls were closing in on me down there."

"I know the feeling," he said with a grin. They shared a similar caginess at being inside for too long, preferring the freedom of the open air and expanse of territory.

"Daryl, about this morning—"

He tried to stop any further fretting about that. "I meant what I said, Michonne. It's over and done with."

"No, I just wanted to say that you were right about one thing. I didn't take your feelings about it serious enough. It wasn't right of me to pretend like what I do doesn't affect you. You freaked out on me but I know it's because you care about me. Just like I know that Maggie and Carl went after me because they care about me."

It was surprising how much Daryl relaxed from hearing Michonne finally acknowledge what he had a hard time saying himself.

"And when I go out, I do it because I care about you too, all of you. I'm extra careful out there because I want to come back to you."

Sighing, Dary dropped one of his knees to stretch his leg out in front of him. He picked at the stitching around the patches Carol had added to his pants. "I get that. Don't mean I don't worry is all."

"Yeah," she replied. "I've had a lot of time to roll it over in my mind, questioning if all these attachments are worth it. We start losing people and I can't stop wondering if I'm going to be the next one to get my heart broken again. And I don't want to fight with you anymore."

Daryl didn't like where this was leading, all this back and forth. His hands clenched and his shoulders tightened in anticipation of what she was going to say. An anger was building as well. He'd spent so much of their relationship thinking she was too good for him and doubting that he deserved a woman like her. Every time his insecurities would surface she'd reassure him that he was everything she wanted. She said it so much and so convincingly that he'd stopped questioning it, preferring to accept her and trust her.

Dammit she didn't get to walk away from them, not for a long while if he had his say on it, but definitely not today.

His pursed lips caught her attention and she raised an arm as if to reach out to him. "No, it's not what you're thinking. I mean that if we're gonna do this, no more tiptoeing around things. I want you to tell me what you need. I don't like hurting you because I'm too clueless to realize how I've upset you. You were right, we're not the kind of people who are much for words. But, Daryl, we have to start being those kind of people."

At her explanation, Daryl could feel the air rushing out of his chest as if he'd been holding in a year's worth of breathing. His mind repeated to himself that she wasn't leaving him like he'd thought. The intensity of his relief scared him, but only a little. After the last twenty-four hours, he was determined to accept how strongly he wanted her in his life.

Michonne continued, sure that he was still listening and processing her request. "I think about Zach and that woman who lost her child. Daryl, if something happens to one us, I don't want there to be any regrets."

Daryl couldn't find much fault in what she was saying. Hell, he'd been thinking it a while back himself. And if he was going to spill his guts, he sure as hell better not be the only one.

"You gon' do the same?" he asked tentatively.

"I'll do my best," she reassured him. "You don't have to answer now. Think on it and let me know. I want to be with you but I'm not good anymore at knowing what's expected of me. And you're the last person in the world that I want to disappoint. So if you have thoughts on how I can make us better, you need to tell me. Straight up. No bullshit."

Even though he agreed with her, this wasn't something he had to ponder much. He knew exactly how he felt and exactly what he wanted from her. Putting it into words and saying it to her face were another matter.

"Thanks for askin'. I know it aint easy."

"It isn't. But I won't lose you for not trying hard enough. If I can, I'll do what I need to so that you always know that you matter to me."

"Me too." It calmed him to see her relax at his response. She'd gone from scaring the hell out of him to saying everything he'd wanted to hear from her and then some.

She opened her mouth as if to continue but then thought better of it. When he raised an eyebrow to silently question her, she grinned, almost shyly. It was adorable, such an uncharacteristic expression on her. When she finally spoke, her words reflected a hesitancy that brightened his mood.

"I know you've got things waiting for your attention but could you sit here with me for a little bit longer?"

"Aint no better place for me." Sure he had responsibilities but he couldn't do much for them if he didn't heal himself. Michonne helped him with that. While he sat by her side, he was reminded of what they were fighting so hard for: stringing together a few moments of peace beside the ones they love most in the world.

The minutes ticked by and they sat together, hoping the small, physical chasm between them was only a temporary separation. They started up a bit of light conversation. She asked why Rick was burning the animal pen and he explained about the fences collapsing and Rick sacrificing the already compromised pigs to buy them some time and space. Daryl relayed his earlier conversation with their friend where he'd adamantly refused retaking a leadership role with the group. They talked about the potential toll the situation would take on him and what it would mean for Carl.

Every so often, there'd be a lull and he'd look into her eyes. What he saw reflected back at him was the ease he'd been seeking.

Hurried footsteps drew their attention below and they saw Tyreese tear around the corner, openly upset and agitated, bordering on furious. Daryl was on his feet in seconds, calling down to the man.

"Hey, what's going on?"

Tyreese stopped abruptly. His focus swung from Michonne, slower to get to her feet up on the catwalk, and then settled on Daryl. His eyes were flashing with panic and anger. "Daryl, you need to come see this. I want Rick there too."

Had there been another attack? Would he need a weapon? Reinforcements? It couldn't be that big of an emergency if he came looking for specific folks and not just asked for help from the first people he saw. The last time he'd seen the big man, he was repairing the outer fencing, keeping himself occupied so he wouldn't have to worry about Karen's illness and separation from the group.

He tried again to get some sort of explanation out of the man. "Ty, talk to me, man. Tell me what's up."

Instead of answering him, Tyreese turned and went back the way he'd come. "You need to get down here. Now!" he roared.

Daryl looked over to Michonne who seemed worried as well. To her he said, "Don't even think about it. Stay off your foot." Noting that he'd get down there faster if he exited through her end, he gathered his things and turned in her direction. "Hard-headed woman," he muttered and he walked toward her.

Rolling her eyes, she grinned at his chiding. "Leave your stuff, I'll put it outside the cell block for you."

When he reached her she was steadying herself against the fence and holding onto the cane. He paused long enough to take hold of her waist and push her body back against his. Absorbing her warmth, he breathed her in, melding her body into his as much as he dared. He pulled her hair off her shoulder and rested his head against the side of hers, his eyes closing at the familiar softness against his cheek. The satisfying hum of her contentment made him foolishly bold; he brushed his lips above the smooth skin of her forehead and pulled away after applying a brief pressure at her temple. Before she could initiate any further, dangerous contact with him, he walked off, his fingers ghosting across her back. His bag of personal items lay at her feet after he retreated.

Whatever awaited him was bound to be fucked up judging by Tyreese's reaction. It made him even more grateful that he'd gotten these few minutes to clear the air with Michonne.

Because, despite his earlier optimism, it was apparent the day was only going to get worse.

TBC ...


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11: Requests**

The mood of the group wavered from despondent to desperate. Carol seemed angry and cold, Glenn looked incredibly tired, Daryl was agitated and Hershel tried to exude calm in the midst of a rapidly declining situation. Michonne remained a static fixture set off from the group, taking it all in.

Hershel hadn't been thrilled to see her at the meeting but it was necessary. With the health and safety of the prison group deteriorating, they had to plan for the worst. The facts were that she'd been away for over a week and had spent much of the previous day on the run; although she'd been with Daryl throughout the night, she'd avoided the outbreak in D Block and hadn't really eaten much of anything that came from the prison's rations. As the least exposed, it was important that Michonne understand what they were up against and what needed to be done if that worst case scenario came to pass. When Glenn had come to fetch her, they'd had a moment of levity about how this is one occasion Daryl would be glad she'd spent so much time away from the prison.

And after her emotional breakdown earlier, this is what she needed: to be on the front line doing something rather than sitting around obsessing over things she will never be able to change.

She listened as Daryl relayed what they found with Karen and David. Michonne was horrified to hear it and, having seen Tyreese right afterwards, she shared the Council's concern for any stability while the perpetrator was at large. On the one hand, she could understand the rationale of what had been done but that didn't justify it as the right call.

One emergency at a time though.

She flicked her eyes over at Daryl again. Throughout the meeting he tried to keep his cool even though he was pissed about the murders and worried about the consequences of all that had gone down. He'd also been surprised to see her with the Council yet he'd quickly gotten over that to instead dwell on her being up and about on an injured ankle. At his silent question she'd shrugged. The status of her mildly tweaked ankle had to surely be the least of his annoyances.

From what Hershel was saying, the bottom line was that they needed medication as soon as possible. Nothing they had on-site would address the rampant disease spreading throughout their home, especially when they had no means of pinpointing the exact cause or any kind of cure.

Daryl beat her to the point that the two of them had scoured all the pharmacies in the area long ago and brought back every possible item and medication that could prove valuable. There wasn't any place left to look. That had been in those first months after the showdown with the Governor. She and Daryl had still been wary of each other then but were united in their keen survival skills and their shared quest to locate the madman's whereabouts. Those trips were where they learned what a formidable team they made. Once they'd gotten close, those early runs were also a way to spend time together without worrying about who'd come wandering by to interrupt.

Resourceful as always, it sounded like Hershel had a good plan in mind to tap a hidden source: the veterinarian college at Peachtree Tech. She'd skirted that area a couple months back; there'd been a fair amount of walker activity but nothing overwhelming, although that didn't mean much since things could change overnight when it came to undead activity in these parts. And as soon as Hershel started talking about medicines and symptom management, she knew there'd have to be a run and she knew she'd be a part of it.

Sure enough, after Hershel's suggestion, Daryl picked right up on how it needed to go down. "Peachtree Tech? That's fifty miles. Too big a risk before. Aint now. I'm 'a take a group out." He rose from the table seemingly ready to hit the road right that second.

Michonne pushed off the bookcase on which she'd been leaning. "I'm in." She really hoped he wouldn't argue too much. Again, she was the most logical choice, even slightly injured. Surprisingly, it was Hershel who interjected with a protest.

"You haven't been exposed, Michonne. Daryl has. You get in a car with him …"

She smirked at her older friend. "He's already given me fleas," she joked. Hershel grinned at her humor, always one for lightening a situation when he could.

"Gross." Glenn said and he really did look like he might hurl at the idea.

"You sure aint one to talk," Daryl said to Glenn. "And you," he added, pointing to Michonne. "I aint never heard no complaints when I been up on ya." Michonne didn't want to give him the satisfaction of agreeing with his counterpoint. He turned to Hershel. "I aint crazy 'bout infectin' Michonne. The point we're at though? We gotta risk it. Aint too many folks can go on a run like this and if we get them drugs, it won't matter no way if we get sick."

Michonne couldn't hide her surprise. Only a few hours ago they'd fought about the parameters of her leaving the prison and the risks to her well-being—and Daryl's. She smiled at him. Maybe their talk had brought them to a place where they could be more open and accepting of each other's intentions about doing what had to be done. He nodded to her, acknowledging this unfamiliar acceptance.

Hershel considered the both of them and satisfied with what he saw, he rose from the table as well. "Even so, I advise you to keep your distance. No unnecessary additional exposure." Translation: no making out. "I can lead the way. I know where everything's kept. And I can serve as a chaperone, if necessary," he joked, grinning at her.

Michonne returned his humor. Bless Hershel for doing his best to keep their spirits up.

But Daryl tensed and turned nervously to Carol. He clearly didn't want to hurt the older man's feelings but Michonne could already tell that there was no way he'd be hitching a ride on this run.

"When we're out there, it's always the same. Sooner or later, we run."

The response to this from Hershel suggested that in his enthusiasm to make things better, he'd overestimated what role he could play in the next phase of the plan. Even now with the passage of time and his greater mobility with the prosthetic leg, it was difficult for him to let go of his past efficiency and the things he could do before.

"I can draw you a map." Instead of dwelling on his limitations, Hershel moved on to addressing the issue of quarantining the most vulnerable in the administration building. That included the very young and, as Glenn astutely noted, the old.

In that moment, Michonne got a good luck at Glenn, exhaustion and defeat coming off him in waves. She could see how much it hurt him to be another person to slow Hershel down. The man had been the voice of reason and logic throughout this ordeal, hell, for as long as she had known him. Glenn was like a son to him and it was painful watching the two men share the weight of how severely this plague impacted their lives. In fact, Glenn was taking this entire situation pretty hard. For the first time, she considered how truly young he was to be dealing with such heavy responsibilities. He'd been mostly quiet throughout the entire meeting and he looked, for lack of a better description, utterly stricken. In the back of her mind, she wondered if maybe the sickness had gotten hold of him too but surely he'd be the first one to quarantine himself in that case, just like Sasha had.

Turning her attention back to Hershel, she saw that he had accepted his circumstances like a champ because he knew it was futile to fight the inevitable.

Out in the corridor, Carol and Glenn followed Daryl down the hallway leading to the yard. Michonne turned the opposite way to walk partway with Hershel back to Cell Block A so he could fill Doctor S. in on their latest plans. Before leaving the area, she motioned to Daryl that she was going to gather their usual supplies and he nodded in understanding. It was a comfort to have one thing they didn't need to think too hard about; they had a routine down cold when it came to going on small runs.

So the next twenty minutes were spent checking the various stashes around the prison ground for transport weapons, ammunition, food, first aid supplies and bags to store whatever they grabbed from the school.

Supplies gathered, she found him out front with Zach's car, checking it over for his usual pre-run tune up. He was inspecting the tires when she walked up and barely glanced at her as she loaded the consolidated supplies into the back seat. Moving up to the front of car, he stared at her ankle as he passed but didn't comment. As she left to go around the side and pick out a couple of spare guns, she saw him take his vest off and reach for the car's hood.

Daryl was still tinkering in the engine when she returned with a couple of shotguns. She stowed them in the back seat along with the rest of their gear and wandered over to check on his progress.

"Sum'bitch is about a quart low," he muttered removing the dipstick from the engine.

"Bottom of Tower 3 right?"

He rolled his eyes. "Not no more since me and Glenn cleaned house on the supply stock. Figures that you forgot seein' as how you didn't lift a finger movin' all that shit around to Tower 2. That run you and Sasha and Maggie did was real convenient."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," she said, feigning ignorance. "Tower 2 it is. I'll go get one," she offered, dusting off her hands.

"Hey." She turned, wondering what else he might need from her errand. "How's that ankle?" he finally worked up the nerve to ask.

She smirked. "Don't worry, I won't be slowing you down if it comes to that."

"That aint what what worries me and you know it." He paused in his work, expecting her full attention and a straight answer to his question.

Sighing she walked back towards him, careful but without a limp. "It's not perfect but it'll hold up just fine. I didn't sprain it and Beth wrapped it up tight." She looked him in the eye. "I'm good." She wouldn't lie to him about something like that. It could get one or both of them killed.

"And the other stuff?"

She sensed his discomfort at specifically referencing her breakdown but it had to be on his mind. A couple of hours ago, she'd been a legitimate mess. How to answer that though? The problem was that she was never going to be alright; she'd always find herself coping with that missing part of her life. She leaned against the hood of the car as she pondered the question.

"There's not much I can do about that except keep trying to accept it." She shrugged. "It feels better to be doing something though."

Michonne looked around and caught Carol out in the distance with Rick trying to gather more water from a pump connected to the small stream outside. At the entrance to the building, Beth was carrying a load of supplies needed to care for Baby Judith while they were in quarantine.

She had lost so much but there was also a lot to hold dear here too. She guessed that's one of the things Daryl was always trying to prove to her.

"Alright then," he accepted going back to his work. "I'm glad you're here. Don't want it to seem like I aint. This virus and that shit with Karen and David's got me shook up is all."

"Understandable. Where else would I be when you guys really need me?"

Daryl leaned into the engine. "I know I sometimes say you're runnin' off. It's what it feels like at times." There was no anger to his words. He wasn't trying to pick a fight, only unpack the frustrations that had accumulated over the last couple of hours. And she realized she shouldn't have opened that door to this discussion with her offhand comment.

"But you know I'm not runnin' off?" she clarified, making sure they weren't revisiting that particular fight twice in one day.

Finally looking up at her, Daryl nodded, conciliatory yet direct. He didn't want to start anything again but the issue always hung between them. It was only a matter of when it would come up and how. Wiping is hands on his pants, he took the few steps toward her to stand next to her and lean against the car.

"Thought about what you said earlier, 'bout tellin' you what I need from ya. I don't have to think on it. We done already gone round and round too many times 'bout where you go when you leave here and for what and for how long. I know I gotta ease up on some stuff. But if we gon' do this, me and you?"

He paused as if to make sure he really wanted to put his next words out there where he couldn't take them back.

"If we gon' do this I want ya to quit lookin' for the Governor. You should do what you gotta when it comes to runs and killin' walkers and keepin' us safe. But no Macon. No traipsin' off for a week huntin' that bastard and no scoutin' out places to track down a damn ghost when you're with us. Focus on what we got here once and for all. Let it go, Michonne."

Michonne tensed, fighting the urge to pop off the automatic objection sitting at the tip of her tongue. She pursed her lips and looked away from him for a moment. Her eyes landed on the graveyard out in the distance, half dug and abandoned to other more pressing problems. The walkers at the fence continued to claw and growl. When she turned back to Daryl, his gaze on her was steady. Calm. There was no sense of embarrassment at discussing his feelings or apprehension about how she'd take the request. She realized he was serious and wouldn't be backing down on this.

What did she expect? She'd asked him what he needed and he'd just told her point blank. For that, she could at least refrain from lashing out. And, damn him, it was as if he picked up on her entire internal conversation as he nodded to her and went back to tinkering with the engine, not bothered by her silence in the least.

"I want ya to think about it, just like ya told me. I aint sayin' we gon' call things off if ya say no but it's what I want and, in my mind, it aint too much to ask."

Michonne crossed her arms and leaned against the car where he'd stood moments before. Her obsession with finding the Governor and making him pay was the main thing—one of the only things—they fought about. She bristled at his notion that it wasn't much to ask. That was the understatement of the year as far as she was concerned. Yet it was difficult for her to explain, even to herself, why letting go felt so unthinkable.

They had other concerns, though, and while they were dealing with them, she would consider how she'd respond to his request.

She watched him play around in the engine for a second; she'd noticed early on that he was quite handy around a car. It relaxed her to appreciate how confident and efficient he appeared carrying out these tasks with which he was so familiar.

"So it's just gonna be me and you like in the old days?" she asked with a bit of humor.

He looked up at her, a brightness in his eyes at recognizing how loaded that question was. It again elicited a variety of memories like climbing trees and hatchbacks and early morning hunts.

"Yeah." He flashed her a grin, letting her know he'd conjured up some of the same images. "And Bob. So kinda like the old days, anyway." His grin transformed into a full-blown smile at her pouty reaction. Neither truly thought this trip would have the ease of their others given the stakes and the challenge of getting there and back as quick as possible. But the promise of handling it together helped relieve some of that tension. "Still, feels like we could use another person."

Back to business, Michonne tried to think of another member of their community who was minimally exposed, not ailing and able to handle themselves well enough for a run of this nature. "Who else isn't sick?"

"We don't ask Rick. He wants to stay here with Carl and Lil Asskicker. Keep 'em safe. Plus, there's plenty 'a stuff he can do here."

"So who else we got?"

Daryl stepped back from the engine and put his hands on his hips. "I got my mind on somebody but aint no tellin' how good it's gon' go askin' for him."

"Tyreese," she guessed and he nodded."

"The man aint in his right mind for bein' so torn up 'bout Karen. I don't blame him but maybe this'll help take his thinkin' off it for a while, be a part 'a helpin' get Sasha better." He closed the hood of the car and grabbed his vest. "You go get that motor oil and I'll go talk to him about it."

"You need backup?" I saw what he did to Rick … and what Rick did to him. Damn."

"I know. It was fucked up, the both of 'em." He shook his head about it. "I got this though. 'Sides, I get why he's pissed so I can handle a little temper tantrum. But if he went crazy on ya, all bets are off."

"How noble." Michonne's wry response made it clear she thought his chivalry anything but. "It wouldn't matter because Tyreese wouldn't run up on me like that and if he did I could take him."

Daryl didn't respond, just shook his head again. "Well, it aint gon' come to that. I'll see to it." Putting his vest back on he walked around the car to where she stood and they both headed up the path. "Meet you back here in a few? I'll get that oil filled and then we can get our asses on the road."

"Sounds good. While you're changing the oil, I'll go get that map from Hershel." He put an arm around her waist and she pushed him away. "Speaking of the good Dr. Greene, how about you keep your hands to yourself. Hershel's orders."

He ignored her and pulled her to him again. "If it was a couple hours ago, I'd be fightin' myself to stay away. But Hershel aint here and if I'm gon' expose you to this flu bullshit anyway then I'm gon' have as much 'a you as I can in case somethin' happens."

Michonne pulled his arm tighter around her. "We'll do what needs to be done. Our friends need our help and we're on it. We're pretty unstoppable together."

She glanced up at him with so much confidence in their combined strength. He returned the gaze, kissing her briefly before they parted.

TBC …


End file.
